


In the Dusk of Stars

by Courtanie



Category: South Park, South Park: The Stick of Truth (Video Game)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Conspiracies, Drama & Romance, Forced Crossdressing, Kenny is genderswapped but not actually, M/M, Slow Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 109,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courtanie/pseuds/Courtanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Elven Prince Kyle and Kupa Keep's "Princess Kendra" are arranged to be wed to join Zaron's kingdoms, neither can claim they're entirely thrilled. For their own reasons they stave through the forced union. When revealed secrets come into the factor, they find themselves facing down a dangerous enemy and a plot to end both their reigns. AU, K2/Dyle/Style/mentions of Creek</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unjust Amalgamation

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings are just for what I have planned so far, they are subject to change. Enjoy!

Perhaps were it a different day, in a different situation, the group surrounding a giant oaken table stretched across the room tight as canvas would have had an appreciation for where they were. Large, ostentatious ornaments of red and blue draped across the renovated space. Tapestries spun so elegantly one had to wonder if one person could really complete such a feat on their own in a single lifetime adorned the walls, speckled with golden beads that rode swirling crests of thread that shimmered in the light breaking through giant bay windows.

A gloved, slender finger lightly traced along the rounded patterns of the table, eyes the color of a clear afternoon sky following along hooded by thick blonde lashes. She didn't want to be here. These meetings were a chore for her to endure, and she was constantly pleading to stay uninvolved. In the past, she'd been able to get away with such a feat fairly often under Queen Liane's worrisome rule. However, with Her Majesty's untimely passing, new, stricter leadership had come into play, and Princess Kendra was _far_ beyond wanting to be under such a tyrannical thumb. She sighed silently under her fashionable scarf wrapped delicately under her braided golden hair and around her mouth, a translucent baby blue with threaded silver loops coasting throughout. This was everyone's favorite for her to wear, after all, it brought out the blue of her bright eyes so 'beautifully' as they all put it. Perhaps the back part of her mind hoped that they would be distracted by her eyes enough for them to listen to her opinions. More often than not, she was at the very least _heard_ , but when it came down to it, the Wizard King was the only favor she needed to procure, and it was far too rare that he let her quandaries linger too long.

"Are ya feelin' all right, Your Highness?" the voice across the empty seat beside her questioned. She looked over to the paladin in question, blinking at the boy. Butters smiled at her, knowing that look. She'd been distracted yet again, something that never irked him in the slightest. Then again, most things didn't. "Are you all right?" he repeated.

She nodded and he smiled approvingly, turning to continue his discussion with the thief to his left. Kendra sighed in boredom, sight slivering over Craig, Tweek, and Garrison all sitting there looking just as disinterested as herself as they waited for their king.

"The hell is taking that little bastard so goddamn long?" The duke complained, taking a large drink of the ruby wine resting in his goblet.

"Be careful," Tweek whispered nervously, eyes darting around. "He'll hear you!"

Garrison looked at him, unimpressed. "Why the living _hell_ are you a warrior if you can't even deal with a goddamn question?"

"I don't know!" he exclaimed, scratching wildly at his hair. "The King made me!"

"Calm down," the rogue beside him sighed, patting Tweek's arm lightly. "Let's just get this meeting fucking over with and we can go back to doing our thing."

"You mean each other?" Garrison smirked, snorting as Craig flipped the elder off without so much as a glance. Kendra rolled her eyes at the show, twirling a strand of hair around her finger carelessly. Every single time it was like this, small petty arguments that would no doubt make their way back into the true debates of their congregation.

They all looked over as the heavy door of the room swung open, a boastful, heavy brunette lingering in the way. He glanced at the group surrounding his table and nodded approvingly. "Good, you're all here."

"Well, we like to get to these meetings _on time_ ," Garrison slurred with a cocked brow. "Perhaps His Majesty can follow example."

"Watch it," he warned, stepping inside and waving off his guard, slamming the door behind him. "I have the power to cut you down now, Your Grace. Don't fucking forget that." The man rolled his eyes and waved off the notion dismissively as the king made way to his seat. He settled comfortably, looking around the group with calculative amber eyes, a smirk slicing through his round face. He folded his hands and set them on the table, "And how are we today?"

Butters raised his brows curiously and cocking his head, "Confused as to why we're having an impromptu meeting, Your Majesty."

"Perhaps I wanted to see all your lovely faces," he cooed.

Craig rolled his eyes, "Cut the crap, Cartman. Why are we here?"

The brunette huffed, "Don't forget where you stand with me, Craig," he pointed at him.

He smacked his lips dryly, "I fucking steal things. I don't care about your damn title."

Cartman grumbled under his breath before sighing impatiently. "Whatever. Fine, I called you all here because we need to discuss the _elf_ problem," he raised his brow.

"Oh dear lord, not again," Garrison put his hand on his forehead. Even as a young prince, Cartman had had an affinity for trying to destroy the Drow Elves living across the land of Zaron in their kingdom of Larnion. Luckily his mother had been there to keep it in control, having a rocky but still visible friendship with Queen Sheila. They'd decided after the last great war to accept one another sharing the lands, but to not press the matter much further until time had passed and the horrors both sides had endured could perhaps be lessoned. "Eric, they haven't done _anything_ for years!" the Duke reminded him firmly.

He shrugged, "But tensions still remain high."

Butters pouted, "Well...well, they don't trust us. I mean, we kinda _did_ destroy part of their sacred forest." The group winced, remembering the absolute fury flying from the Drows on that day. The magic and arrows soaring at them, cutting through the sky like needles and destroying countless humans who dared to raise axes to their beloved woodlands.

Eric shook his head and cleared his throat, "That was an accident and we all know it."

"Yeah, because the _prince_ telling his mommy 'it's the perfect place for a new restaurant, Mehm' when the Queen didn't _know_ that was part of their territory is 'accidental'," Craig air quoted with a cocked brow.

He shrugged, "Perhaps I thought it could bring a mutual love of an area to both our races," he replied smoothly.

"Uh huh," Garrison scoffed. "That's why you altered the map to take _out_ that section so she wouldn't know it was part of Larnion, right?"

"Hey! I did not call you all here for a trial against your king!" he snapped. He took a deep breath and settled slightly. "In fact, I want to discuss the possibility of a peace treaty with those dirty elf bastards."

Craig rolled his eyes, "Because nothing speaks 'I wish to be your ally' than calling them dirty bastards."

"Look, regardless of our alliance, they're _always_ going to be conniving pieces of shit," he frowned. "But were we in an accordance, their filthy black arts could come in handy."

Butters frowned, "It ain't 'black arts', Your Majesty. They work with nature, a-and find spirit within themsel-"

"Shut up, Paladin," he snapped, Butters' lips sealing immediately. "My _point_ is we live in very tumultuous times, Gentlemen...And My Lady," he nodded to Kendra who blinked back confusedly. She knew as well as any other Cartman's distaste for having enemies becoming potential allies. He'd dismissed every other kingdom's offer that didn't have the 'cliental' that he believed to be of any use. The Jersians and the Canadians alike had come forward, each of them angrily stomping away as the Wizard King had told them their kingdoms were better left to befriending the rats than his 'glorious' land of Kupa Keep. "So, I propose we offer them something to forge our alliance in stone."

"Like?" Tweek blinked. "We don't have the land to offer them, they don't want it anyway!"

"I'm well aware," he replied cooly. "Besides, I won't let those bastards take ownership of _mah_ property."

Garrison rubbed his temple tiredly, "Then what do you propose? The only item they'd consider to be of any value is The Stick, and they already hold ownership of that."

He nodded curtly, "Tell me, what is the elves' greatest issue with us?"

"We nearly destroyed their sacred forest," Craig said dryly.

"Our king calls them dirty bastards," Garrison added with another sip of merlot.

The king rolled his eyes, "No. We're _human_. And they don't trust humans."

"Well...well, we can't exactly change our species, Your Majesty," Butters pouted.

Cartman nodded, "I'm more than aware, Butters. However, only a spark is needed to let the wildfire spread."

"We're _not_ burning down their forest, Eric," Garrison bit.

"No, you fucking retard, not literally," he rubbed his eyes and sighed irritably. "I _mean_ we only need one human and one elf to get along, show both sides of the species lineages that we _can_ coexist."

Kendra narrowed her eyes skeptically, grasping a pile of small parchment from the outer scarf pocket lining her cotton candy skirt. She dabbed a quill set next to her with a pristine, curling feather and dabbled it within her ink, quickly scribbling down a message and sliding it over to the king. _'And why would_ _ **you**_ _want to see such a collaboration?'_

Cartman read over it and chuckled, looking at the Princess with a smirk. "Lady McCormick, it's for the potential advancement of Zaron," he said innocently. "My mother and that Queen Jersian were friends, but they never quite achieved the tranquility of our land. But we can...with _your_ help," he gestured to her. She blinked, looking at all the other bewildered eyes before landing back on the heavyweight before her. She pointed to herself with a gloved hand and he nodded in confirmation.

"Uh, what is the Princess supposed to do?" Tweek blinked. "She can't make the negotiations!"

"She _is_ the negotiation," Cartman said smugly, turning back to face the front and glancing at his men cooly. "The elder elven prince," he said nonchalantly.

Garrison cocked his brow, "Yeah. Kyle. What about him?"

He grinned, "He turned eighteen just this last week."

"And you want to send him a fucking present?" Craig asked dryly.

"Great idea, Eric!" Butters clapped.

The king rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently. "Not. Quite," he hissed through his teeth, shooting the paladin a look to cease his incessant applause. "I _mean_ he's now of _courting_ age."

"Okay..." Garrison nodded suspiciously.

"I suggest that we propose the union of that dirty Jew and our beloved princess," he gestured towards the blonde who looked at him in utter shock. He couldn't be serious. Cartman looked at all the stunned faces surrounding him and chuckled, "Think about it: We'll have an arrangement where a _human_ will be part of the ruling force of Larnion."

Kendra narrowed her eyes, grabbing yet another paper and angrily scripting yet another response, throwing it at him haphazardly. _'Does that mean that you will take an_ _ **elven wife**_ _to keep it even?'_

He scoffed and threw the paper back at her head, watching it bounce off her rouged cheek without so much as a flinch from the frustrated woman. "No," he said sharply. "Besides, he'll be king, you won't hold as much power in the long run."

"In Larnion, the queen holds nearly _all_ the power," Butters inputted quietly.

"For _this_ generation, yes," he agreed. "But Kahl is as stubborn _as_ his mother. Has her Jersian blood flowing through him," he shuddered. "When he gets the throne, I'm sure he'll be just as persistent as he was when I used to see him as children on those rare civil disputes." The King twisted his lips, staring at the table angrily at the memory of the boy he hadn't seen in nearly a decade. Dirty copper hair stacked onto his head in thick, matted curls. A loud, high pitched and irritated voice that disputed every single thing that Cartman ever said. A complete and downright snobbish attitude when it came to the human race, commenting on how being creatures of mere violence and no harmonious magics to balance them made for a despicable species. After Eric had made the obvious note of how ridiculously horrid the elf's mother was, Kyle had leaped on top of him and they'd began rolling around in the dirt of Kupa Keep's courtyard kicking and punching at each other for nearly ten minutes before a group of servants had found them and pried them apart, toting them back to their mothers to be lectured side-by-side as noses bled and eyes bruised. Cartman never forgot the look that the Jew had given him; The clashing emerald stare that may as well have been his death warrant as scathing as it was.

The Duke held up his hand and waved it in front of him, grabbing his attention once again. "Hold on, Eric. What the hell makes you think that the Drows would agree to this to begin with?"

"Well, we need to _convince them_ ," he replied dryly. "We remind them of my mother and that Jew Queen's ultimate goal. We let Kahl _stay_ in the kingdom as opposed to him being married off somewhere where he'd be required to relocate outside of Larnion. You know that elves just _hate_ to lose each other," he rolled his eyes.

Butters pouted, "Well, all they have is each other. They hold their families very spec-"

"For the love of _God,_ Butters, I don't need a fucking lore lesson on the goddamn Drows!" he snapped, sending the blonde recoiling into his seat in fright. The king sighed irritably, "Look, I think that a potential union is the best option. For _both_ sides. Kahl courts Lady McCormick, they marry, they rule Larnion, I keep Kupa Keep, and we join forces in the happenstance that someone should decide they want to interfere with Zaron's affairs."

Craig tapped his finger on the table and clicked his tongue. "And...if the prince doesn't have favor for Kendra?"

"That's why we need to convince the king and queen. If they decide on the union, then the prince doesn't get a choice in the matter," he said smugly. "A contract will be forged and unless all _three_ of us monarchs decide to absolve the arrangement, then there's no avoidance."

Kendra took a deep breath, slowly working out another sheet of paper to slide over. _'I don't like the idea of not having my own choice in the matter.'_

Cartman read over with a scrutinizing eye and scoffed, "Princess, Kahl's the _best_ you could probably do. He's probably the only monarch in these lands that wouldn't beat you or force you to stay in the fucking kitchen," he rolled his eyes. "You _have_ to marry royalty, why the fuck wouldn't you want someone close to home?"

She narrowed her eyes, snagging the paper back, her quill hurriedly being re-inked and shaking her head as she wrote. A long breath escaped her, biting her lip to keep herself from losing her temper. She passed the paper back over and crossed her arms as Cartman read through. _'But an elf? I know nothing about their culture! I barely know the royal family themselves!'_

The king sighed tiredly, "You would be courted first, Lady McCormick. You would learn of the elves. You would get to know the kingdom before marrying into it. Don't you _want_ our kingdoms to be joined?" he asked, snagging the quill from her hand and slowly writing a silent message back. "This is the chance of a lifetime," he continued casually. "You would be the princess who helped save Zaron from turmoil." He slid the paper back over, watching those sea blue eyes reading over his note, the worry on her face quickly spreading under the seclusion of her scarf. She looked at him in silence and he smirked victoriously, turning back to face the men. "Opinions?"

"Not like it matters, you'll do whatever the fuck you want," Garrison rolled his eyes. The king shrugged and laughed in agreement and the duke sighed. "Yeah. I mean. If you can get the king and queen to agree, then I don't really see any harm in the idea."

"What if the elves use this against us?" Craig input. "What if they think it's a sign of weakness, that we need them for any impending wars? They could think it's a perfect time to take advantage of us."

Butters frowned, "The Drows are inherently against violence unless it's called for. They fight t' protect their people, not t' cause trouble."

Tweek bit his lip, "But what if they change their minds?!"

Cartman rolled his eyes, "Calm the fuck down. I _highly_ doubt they'd be foolish enough to attack us without cause." The group all looked at each other with blank expressions. "So, we're all in agreement then?" The lot shrugged skeptically and he chuckled. "Butters, send a message requesting permission to enter Larnion," Cartman ordered. "Tell them the cause, but request that they _not_ inform Kahl of the arrangement."

"Why?" Garrison questioned slowly.

The brunette smirked, "You know how he is."

"No. I don't. I haven't seen him in ten years. Like _you_ haven't," he reminded him firmly.

The smirk dropped and a scowl slowly took hold. "I _doubt_ he's changed all that much. He'd fight against it, I'm sure. This needs left up to the rulers, not the next-in-lines." He looked at Butters and nodded curtly. "Go inform a runner."

"Yessir," he saluted, standing and bowing briskly before turning on his heel and running out the door.

Cartman looked to the other three, "You're all excused. Craig and Garrison, you will be accompanying myself and the princess to Larnion if plans go through accordingly." He looked over at a pouting, nervous Tweek. "Tweek, you will be staying here, do you understand?"

"Why can't Tweek go?" Craig demanded.

"Because _someone_ in my counsel has to stay here, and Butters knows the Drows better than any of us," he said smartly. "Now, _go_ ," he bit.

The noirette opened his mouth to argue before sighing and shaking his head, pushing away from the table and practically storming out of the room with Tweek on his tail. Garrison grabbed his goblet and gave him a half-toast. "Great. Make Craig angry. That's a great way to keep your ass protected on the carriage ride," he scoffed, gulping down the last of his wine before following the two boys out of the room.

Kendra and Cartman stayed still until the door firmly closed behind them before they looked at each other, the blonde taking an angry breath. "Why are you making me do this?" he asked bitterly.

The king smirked. "Because. You're an advantage in my court. So we'll make you the liability in Kahl's."

"I have no interest in hurting the Drow prince, Cartman," he said lowly. "They've done _nothing_ to us."

He shrugged casually, "Then you have no interest in Karen being safe?" He fell silent, jaw subtly trembling under his scarf. Cartman placed a thick hand on his shoulder and he jerked away, bright blue descending darkly.

"You're not playing fair," he hissed.

He leaned towards him and cocked his brow. "Oh? Well why don't we play fair? Why don't we tell _all_ the kingdom our little secret, _Kinny_?" he snapped subtly. "Why don't we let the fucking land fall into fucking disrepair?"

"You told me my job was to just stay fucking quiet," he replied. "There was _no_ talk of me fucking _marrying_ into another kingdom!"

"You took on the role of the _princess_ ," he reminded him sharply. "You think the kingdom is okay with you just sitting there looking fucking pretty? You need to take action to better the kingdom!"

"I do-"

"I don't mean your fucking little charity and food banquets," he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, they adore you for that, but talk is starting. You've been of courting age for months and haven't made a single step towards finding a suitor!"

Kenny rolled his eyes, "Kind of _hard_ considering my current circumstance, Fatass!"

"Watch it," he warned. He got to his feet and took a deep breath. "I _know_ the circumstance makes it hard, that's why I'm setting you up in a situation that the Drows can't get out of."

"What if they kill me when they find out?" he demanded.

He shrugged, "You'll come back anyway. Now, remember just where your duties lie, under _me_ ," he pointed to himself firmly. "Either you woo that fucking elf dickhead or your sister gets to have fun being made into someone else's servant," he said lowly. "She's with a kind old woman now, but the men at the bars sure wouldn't mind a pretty young lady like her at their beck and call," he cocked his brow.

He watched amusedly as Kenny shot onto his feet. "You _fuck_ ," he snarled, fists clenching.

"So we have an agreement then?" Cartman smirked devilishly. Kenny trembled, glaring in silence and the king chuckled, patting his arm. "Good," he said in a chipper tone. "We'll discuss your assignment in the morning. I suggest you pick out your _finest_ attire to bring along with you," he smiled sweetly. "Oh, and," he reached up to grab Kenny's chin and shake it. "You may want to shave the stubble. Rather noticeable up close," he smirked, turning on his heel and heading out the door. Kenny watched after him in silence, shakily putting his hands on the table and sitting back in his chair. He placed his face in his gloved palms and shook his head. Once more, as he found himself doing time and again each day since he was a mere five years old, he regretted every _second_ of what he'd done and the life he'd placed himself into.


	2. The Price We Pay

How his mother thought she could hide anything from him at this point was just beyond him. Prince Kyle leaned back against the archway between a corridor and the kitchen around the wall, heightened hearing picking up clamor reporting on the King of Kupa Keep's arrival today. He narrowed his eyes and growled, remembering well that brown haired nuisance on the sparse occasions he'd been forced by his mother to accompany her on her trips to the humans' land. His nose scrunched, memories picking up mottled moments of the glutton's smell, a constant stench of slick grease and sickening perfumes. He could only assume that the fellow prince had believed the greater the smell, the greater the power. He certainly _seemed_ to have that trail of failed logic following after him like the tail of a comet, depositing little bits of nonsense wherever he treaded. The redhead's shoulders sunk.

Of course, Eric Cartman was no longer a prince. He had been the full-fledged _king_ for nearly four months now. His mother had quietly mourned her fellow queen's passing under the guise of carefully planning her son's preparation for his courting season. However, himself, his father, and his younger brother could all read it loud and clear: Sheila would have given anything to have gone to Liane's funeral. She hadn't heard of her passing until the mourning period of her kingdom had gone and passed, only learning of it through traveling word of Eric's coronation. She had honored the kind monarch in her own fashion, going out and planting a simple cymbidium orchid in front of one of their sacred trees, using her ever-loving green thumb magics to watch it grow before her eyes. Kyle had joined her in the courtyard on his own accord, watching the pink petals unfurling with a golden glow surrounding the plant. She'd grabbed his hand and stared at it in silence with him, one mourning a dear friend, the other mourning the stability of the empire knowing it was in the hands of the fat racist from all those years ago.

" _Kyle, what flower will you plant when I die?"_ Sheila had asked softly.

The boy had looked at her and blinked, not expecting such a question. He'd cleared his throat, looking back at the satin petals gently dancing in the breeze. He let his mind flow back to the almanacs he'd been given to study for the majority of his life, mental images of arrays of colors floating through. _"An iris,"_ he'd finally answered. Sheila had smiled fondly, grasping his hand a little tighter and nodding to herself.

He should've known something would spawn from Liane's passing, he just didn't think that it would be brought onto his home territory. He leaned back further against the arch, fingers fiddling with the plush linen of his scarlet shirt, tracing along the golden embroidery of his dangling sleeves mindlessly. He knew the cooks had a habit of being insatiable gossips, often marring facts as word passed through the kingdom. But he couldn't help but feel his chest tighten at a clear mention of his name, biting his lip. _Something_ was going on. Otherwise the workers wouldn't be preparing as hurriedly as they were.

"My Prince!" a familiar voice called, Kyle looking over to see Stan walking towards him with an unamused expression plastered across his face. "You need to stop running off from me," he lectured dryly.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "It's the fucking palace, Stan. Not the damn alleyways, calm down."

The tall noirette stood beside him, leaning against the wall with him and sighing. "You _know_ how your mother is."

"And _you_ know how _I_ am," he replied smartly. He crossed his arms and looked at the taller human superiorly. "I _think_ I can handle a problem arising in the halls."

"Your Highness, can you _please_ just-"

He snapped his fingers up at his face and frowned, "You wanna come with me as a friend, fine. But don't pull this 'protect the delicate flower' bodyguard bullshit if my parents aren't around," he huffed, turning on his heel and beginning to make his way down the long corridor.

Stan rolled his eyes, hurrying beside him and looking down at the elf curiously. "Why are you hanging out by the kitchen, Your-" he paused as Kyle shot him a look and sighed. "Ky," he mended.

Kyle nodded approvingly, shooting him a small smirk for his frustration. The prince shrugged, "Something's going on. Have you heard anything of the Fatass King coming to Larnion?"

The ranger blinked, "I'd heard a rumor, but I didn't think it was actually true. What the hell is he doing coming here?"

The redhead twisted his lips suspiciously, "I don't know. I _want_ to give the benefit of the doubt and say that he's coming to thank my mother for her friendship to Queen Liane. But if he's _anything_ like the barbarian I remember, then I highly doubt that's the case," he sighed. He turned a sharp corner, Stan stumbling before hurrying to catch back up to him.

"Where are we headed?"

"The throne room," Kyle muttered. "I'm asking my parents what the hell they're trying to pull." They came up to the large door, a mahogany plank adorned with silver leaf trimmings cusping up the middle and towards the sides of the barrier. Stan tried to open the way for him before Kyle shoved him aside, pushing it open on his own and leaving the ranger to pinch the bridge of his nose as he followed. Always the stubborn independent, his prince.

Kyle practically stomped towards his parents who were facing out of the window and talking. He cleared his throat impatiently and they whirled around, facing their son in surprise. "Kyle, what is it?" Gerald blinked.

"The fuck is going on?" he demanded curtly.

"Young man," Sheila warned, raising her brows expectantly.

He leaned his head back and groaned as Stan stepped beside him, holding in laughter. Kyle took a deep breath and folded his hands, forcing a patient smile on his face that Sheila had drilled into him over the years. "Why is everyone in such a fuss?" he asked politely, subtly kicking the shaking-with-giggles ranger beside him.

"Good," she nodded approvingly. "It's nothing to be concerned about, Kyle," she assured him. "King Eric wishes to speak with us of a treaty."

"Treaty?" he repeated, letting his folded hands fall to his sides and narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Why?" he asked bluntly.

Gerald hitched his brow, "To bring peace between our lands, Kyle."

"You _realize_ he's a racist, right?" he bit. "He hates elves. All of us!" he gestured around frantically. "This is a plot, I can guaran-"

"Kyle!" Sheila snapped, the boy recoiling a bit and gulping. She sighed irritably and walked over towards him, a good half a foot shorter than him but enough to intimidate the boy. She grabbed his shoulder and pushed down gently, Kyle dropping down automatically to kneel on one knee in front of her with a pout. She looked down at him sternly. "Kyle, this is how ruling a kingdom _works_ ," she emphasized. "What have we told you is the most important element of leadership?"

He scrunched his face bitterly, looking down and muttering, "Being fair."

"Right," she nodded, tapping his head to get his attention back up. He raised those sharp emeralds back into her own and she sighed tiredly. "Bubbie, being fair means being fair to _everyone_. Even your enemies."

"But Cartman-"

"Ahp," she held up a finger. "He's king now, Kyle. You must address him properly since he's of a higher title."

He seethed between his teeth. " _King Eric_ doesn't play fair. I don't think we should either. I think you should keep him _out_ of Larnion."

"The decision is not yours to make, Kyle," she reminded him. "When you are king, then _you_ may decide who crosses our borders. I only hope that you'll realize by then that _all_ people have a right to earn your respect."

Kyle growled, "May I be excused?"

She nodded, stepping back and allowing him to stand. "Please, trust our judgement, Kyle," she pleaded.

"I trust you. I don't trust _him_ ," he spat, turning on his heel and folding his finger for Stan to follow. Stan gulped, bowing to the king and queen before hurrying after the stomping redhead. They made way out of the throne room, Kyle raking his hands through his hair in frustration, soft ember curls listlessly twirling around his fingers in a symphonic dance. He began leading Stan towards the far end of the palace and towards the stairs to his room, grumbling all the way.

Stan watched his prince's mumbling tirade and sighed, "Kyle, can I say something?"

"Go for it," he muttered, ripping open the door and stomping up the wooden stairway lit with different shades of elven magic set upon branches.

Stan licked his lips, following him up the way. "Maybe Cartman _has_ changed," he winced as Kyle shot him a scathing glare. "I mean, it's been a _very_ long time since you've seen each other, My Prince," he said softly.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "You know what I heard he did when his mother died?" he asked primly as they made it to his chambers. He stopped on the landing of the steps waiting for Stan to stand beside him and he took a deep breath. "He _redecorated_."

Stan cocked his brow. "Uh...Why is that a problem?"

"You're not an elf, you don't get it," he groaned in frustration. "You don't do that so _soon_ after a passing of a beloved family member. You let their memory stay until you're sure that the spirit they put into every piece of what made their house a home has come out and found peace..." he dropped his shoulders and glanced out his window tiredly. "He's an awful person, Stan. I bet he was just _waiting_ for his mother to die. He couldn't _wait_ to take the throne."

"Are you not excited for your own ascension?" he questioned.

He paused before shaking his head softly. "No. I'm not. And not just because that means my parents are gone. I don't _want_ to deal with these issues of letting various Eric fucking Cartmans into my kingdom, threatening my people...Just being a general pain in my ass!" he said exhaustively.

Stan smiled softly and chuckled, reaching down and grasping Kyle's hand, kissing his knuckles tenderly. "You worry too much, My Prince," he murmured, lips tracing down his arm and towards the distracted elf's neck. Kyle let out a soft sound as teeth gently nipped his exposed clavicle, leaning his head back and continuing to stare at the morning sun.

"Isn't that what being a king is?" he asked quietly. "Worrying too much?" He gasped lightly as Stan's hands trickled up his back and into his hair, pulling him into his broad chest. The redhead looked up into eyes blue as the still night tide, searching for answers from his best friend as he so often did.

Stan kissed his lips softly, leading him back towards the large, plush bed and letting him slowly move himself on top of it before following, leaning over the prince and placing their foreheads together. "Perhaps," he finally answered, feeling Kyle's slim fingers tracing up his chest and curling around the back of his neck. "But for now, you need to let your parents worry about this. Not you."

Kyle sighed as he leaned his head back against his pillow, watching Stan as he slowly began to undo the ties of his robes, staring at the elf's skin slowly being revealed hungrily. "I'm not good at that," he smiled crookedly. "You know that."

He nodded, "I do." He leaned down and kissed beside his navel, tongue lightly tracing up his flat stomach and the intoxicating aroma of the forest that Kyle carried with him at all times, hands busying themselves with ripping off Kyle's boots and beginning to worm down his pants. Kyle squirmed and whimpered as he nipped his hipbone, leg jerking sensitively. Stan laughed hotly against the skin as he revealed each bit of Kyle's lower half an inch at a time. "I know you better than anyone," he reminded him, trailing kisses back up as he tossed the garment down onto the floor and hovered over him.

Kyle smiled fondly, fingers working to help Stan rid himself of his own clothes until they were lying naked against one another, lips gently brushing like a familiar static ringing through their nerves. Kyle's soft hands traced over Stan's broad chest, fingers curling around his shoulder and neck and pulling him closer on top of him, arching his body up against the familiar heat. Stan rubbed soothing circles over his hips with his thumbs, pulling him to encourage his eager upwards jerks.

Kyle turned his head, letting Stan bury himself into his slender neck and moaning softly, eyes hazily watching as the ranger's hand reached to his bedside table for the vat of oil he kept for such occasions. Stan had been his escape for nearly three years at this point, both of them happily shedding the stresses of their separate duties to fall into each other after the curiosity of being so close for so many years finally came to a head. A night of sneaking in wine to Kyle's room led to a drunken kiss and then further than Kyle ever thought he'd get at the tender age of fifteen. Not that he minded, but he knew how the kingdom would react if word got out that the prince was fucking a lowly ranger, a ranger who, even worse, was _human._ A scandal would begin and his mother would make sure that if he ever took the throne, he'd be doing it with broken kneecaps.

He gasped, chest arching into Stan's as an oiled finger probed inside of him, wriggling in the tight, unforgiving heat. The elf bit his lip, leaning his head back and lightly scraping his nails down his protector's back, drawing him in for another slow kiss. Their tongues played alongside each other as Stan questionably ran his second finger alongside the first, waiting for Kyle's nod of permission before sliding it in with its counterpart.

"Ugh, Stan," Kyle breathed against his mouth, lashes fluttering as he was spread, feeling Stan's hard cock resting on his thigh and licking his lips.

"Doin' okay?" Stan whispered.

Always the concerned lover, his ranger. "More," he hiccuped, thighs twitching as Stan pressed in his third and final finger, Kyle's eyes rolling back and he hissed and groaned through the digits playing inside of him. He grabbed Stan's shoulder and shook him, "No, _you_ ," he demanded.

Stan chuckled, kissing under his pointed ear. "These _are_ me," he teased, pressing his fingers up and jittering his hand against his prostate, listening to Kyle whine and smiling.

"Your _cock,_ you dick!" he hissed.

The ranger chuckled, tearing his fingers out and watching the strong prince whimpering and humping up against him desperately. "Hang on," he cooed, re-dousing his hand in the amber oil and stroking it along his skin, Kyle's writhing and pleading eyes shooting open at him with a dark evergreen gleam. Stan kissed him again, pressing Kyle's head back against the pillow under him and blindly reaching forward to grab another. He moved a strong arm under the frail body and shoved the pillow under his hips, Kyle never letting him leave the company of his tongue. Stan pressed his own hips forward, grabbing a hold of his cock and slowly rubbing it over Kyle's hole, the redhead lifting and spreading his legs for him. With a soft grunt he pushed his way in, pulling his head back just a hair to watch Kyle's reactions carefully.

Kyle blinked rapidly, head falling back and neck arching up as he moaned, the heat filling him to the breaking point. "Fuck," he whimpered, taking a gasp of air, swallowing down like he'd forgotten how to breathe as Stan continued to gently work his way down. He paused to give him a moment to adjust and Kyle whined. "Don't stop!" he begged.

The noirette chuckled, giving a firm, solid thrust to fully sheathe himself in the smaller body, Kyle's eyes clenching shut and a string of curses escaping his lips. Stan pushed his head down and recaptured the tempting mouth, swallowing his moans as he slowly began to pull back and press inside the tight heat. The prince let out a happy purr from the back of his throat, wrapping his legs around Stan's hips to urge him deeper.

"Ahh, Ah fuck," he groaned, hands dropping from Stan's back to grip at the bed underneath him above his head, nails digging into the laundered sheets and knuckles hitting the twisting vines headboard as the ranger's rhythm rocked him back and forth. Stan's strong hands remained wrapped around his hip and fisted beside the Jew's head. He grunted, hips smacking against Kyle's ass with heavy thuds as he fucked him in long, smooth strokes. His dick rubbed beautifully against Kyle's prostate with each push, the redhead yelping softly with every impact. The friction rushing inside of him was like the glow of a fireplace; Familiar and heated, dangerous but irresistible.

The prince could never deny what being with Stan did for him; The idea of something so forbidden in his lineage, the mere _notion_ of him not waiting until consummating his future marriage to have his first time. Stan was everything he wanted, but, he also knew that this was as _much_ as he wanted. He always wanted the boy using his body to be involved in his life, and the way they were now was good enough to last him the rest of their lifetimes. Happily friends as a prince and his bodyguard on the outside, and secretly sharing their private intimate moments on the inside.

Kyle smiled, darkened eyes half-lidded as he looked up to stare at the ranger, finding him staring right back with such fondness in his eyes that it sent Kyle's over-stimulated body into a further stir. "Stan," he whispered desperately, reaching up with one hand and lightly tracing down his strong cheekbone with a genial brush of his fingertips. He bit his lip and moaned as Stan kissed his hand, never losing his deep rhythm. "Ungh," he shuddered, hand dropping to tap Stan's still oiled fist beside his head, the noirette opening his fingers and letting the redhead slide his palm through the slickness. The prince grasped around his own stiff cock, mouth dropping in a silent cry as he stroked himself.

Stan licked his lips, switching the hand grabbing Kyle's hip and grasping his free fingers in the other. Kyle turned his palm and they laced their fingers together, staring at one another silently, heavy pants and sweat all they needed to communicate with each other, the occasional brush of the back of Kyle's knuckles over Stan's stomach as he continued to thrust.

Kyle felt the heat coiling inside of him rapidly, his hand, Stan's precise aim, and the adoring stare he was receiving all overwhelming him. "Stan..." he moaned. "I...I'm..." he closed his eyes, breath rapidly coming and going from his lungs. He was drowning, and Stan was pulling him down to the bottom of the sea, crushing every bit of his royal authority and making him a pure victim of the tide in his strong, knowing hands.

Lips brushed over his own like lightening, "Come on, My Prince," Stan murmured.

Kyle's brows knitted in absorption, hand speeding against the ridges of his cock. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," he whimpered, head falling back and letting out a loud cry as he sprung loose, Stan's teeth latching onto his shoulder as he continued to push inside of him while Kyle rode his orgasm through. The Jew's body twitched, that fireplace bursting from its hold within him, burning each inch of his insides until the nerves settled, embers flickering with life as they laid upon the stone of the kiln. His hand fell from his dick, his cum settled between the both of them and looking up exhaustively as Stan continued to press inside of him, rocking his limp body on the bed. Stan muttered a simple 'shit' before his hands tightened around his hip and fingers, Kyle wincing as a final, sharp thrust sent the ranger over the edge inside of him. He felt Stan milking himself inside of his still-contracting muscle, the boy spilling into his body like the oil placed there prior.

He leaned his head back in satisfaction, a grin over his slim face as he took a shaking breath. Stan kissed his neck chastely, slowly pulling his spent cock out of the tired body, treasuring each lingering inch of heat. He finally found himself completely separated, feeling the loss hitting him miserably. One look at his prince's happy smile calmed his dissatisfaction, however, his own body trembling as he continued to hover above him and watch the redhead with loving eyes.

Kyle tilted his head and fluttered his eyes back open, that smile still over his face as he uncurled their hands, bringing his unsullied palm to lightly cup Stan's face. "Thank you," he whispered.

Stan snorted, "My pleasure, Your Highness."

Kyle rolled his eyes at the title, no longer distracted by hormones as he clasped the back of Stan's neck, pulling himself up and pressing their lips together yet again. Stan sighed happily against him, clean hand running up through the thick, gorgeous curls atop Kyle's head and rubbing his fingers through the strands. They continued to lightly play with each other's bodies, tips of their nails brushing over known sensitive spots and laughing softly against one another. A sudden noise from outside broke their concentration, a large shout announcing the arrival of a carriage from outside Kyle's front-facing window.

The two of them pulled apart and glanced at each other before hopping up with shaking legs and carefully walking to either side of the viewing, sticking only their heads around to see. Kyle growled as an ornate carriage pulled in through their front gates, decorated with garish jewels. He shook his head, "That's Fatass for you. Can't even travel through the _barren lands_ between us without announcing who he is."

"He's going to get himself robbed," Stan raised his brow.

"Good," he scoffed. He looked at his ranger and crossed his arms. "Still think he's changed?"

Stan took a deep breath and looked at the prince concernedly. "I don't know, Ky...maybe. At least _try_ to give him the benefit of the doubt?" he pleaded.

"Why?" he snapped.

"Because not all humans are inherently evil," he winced.

Kyle opened his mouth to retort before it slowly closed, looking at the sculpted man before him and taking a deep breath. "You're right," he conceded. "Not _all_ humans are evil. The ones adopted and raised by elves are all right," he teased.

Stan snorted, "And a few others here and there, ya know."

"No, I don't know. I only know one human so well. And it's hard to say someone's evil when I crave his cock so often," he winked seductively. Stan rolled his eyes amusedly, following Kyle's lead and cautiously backing from the window to hide their bareness before turning and beginning to wash themselves off from the small water basin by one of Kyle's massive bookshelves. They silently cleaned themselves before Kyle let out a long sigh, drying his stomach and the insides of his thighs, twisting his lips in thought. "A treaty always comes with prices," he murmured.

"What?" Stan cocked his head as he began to redress.

Kyle followed suit, slowly sliding on his tight, jade pants and staring at the floor as he worked them up his slender hips. "Treaties are never just...treaties," he finally elaborated as he began to work tying his shirt back into place. "There's always _someone_ who ends up losing something in the end."

"And...you're afraid it's Larnion who'll lose something," Stan continued quietly, snapping his chest armor back into place, watching as Kyle covered up his subtle markings over his pale skin and hiding his pout.

"Of course," he shrugged, finishing his lacing and walking to the mirror on the side of his room, trying to fix the disaster Stan had created with his hair. "Whether or not it's Fatass himself doesn't matter in that aspect. You know as well as I do that _all_ members of Kupa Keep know nothing of sacrifice," he said sternly, cursing at a knot in his curls.

Stan nodded slowly, grabbing Kyle's discarded boots and making way towards him, kneeling down beside of him to help him slip them on as he worked his hair. "Perhaps that's the majority, but I'm sure there must be _some_ people willing to give everything for someone or something."

"But who _are_ those someones or somethings?" he questioned, looking down at the ranger lacing up his high brown boots. "Are they fighting for a god? Are they fighting for the preservation of themselves?"

"Perhaps love," he murmured. "Humans feel love the same as elves."

"No, you don't," Kyle corrected, getting a raised brow from his bodyguard and sighing. "You humans can fall in and out of love, we can't," he said sadly. "When we lose one another, we don't move on. We literally _can't_." Stan continued staring at him, the prince reaching down and grabbing his other boot, sliding the tight leather up his left leg and lacing it himself. "You know once elves fall for someone, they mate for life, Stan."

"But what if the affection isn't mutual? I figured you just did it out of tradition," he narrowed his eyes.

Kyle smiled sadly, "It's _always_ mutual. Elves are attuned to one another. When you find the one you belong with, the bond forges and can only grow stronger," he held his hand down and helped pull Stan back onto his feet, helping fix his lopsided helmet. "That's how we are. It's how we've _always_ been..." he trailed off and sighed. "But that comes with such a price. Honestly, it terrifies me."

"Really?" he questioned.

The prince nodded. "The idea of someone having such a tight hold on my heart...someone that I wouldn't be able to function without...I hate it," he whispered, tracing his fingers over Stan's breastplate. "That's why if one of my parents die...I have to take the throne right then and there," he muttered. "Because they just can't handle the responsibility without the other...That's perhaps the _one_ thing that humans have over us: Your ability to look the other way," he said, frowning and turning on his heel, heading towards his stairs and glancing back at the dumbfounded ranger. He smiled softly, "Come on, let's see what Fatass is up to." He began walking down the stairwell and Stan let out a long, deep sigh through his nose as he began to follow his prince. The noirette watched the curly mop in front of him as Kyle regained his dignified air, brushing off the events that'd transpired between them as though they'd never happened, his chest tightening in despair before he shook it off, remembering his one truth in this life that he had been taught and held so dearly: Kyle came first.


	3. A Life to be Wagered

King Gerald and Queen Sheila both stood quietly with their hands folded, soft smiles over their faces as they watched their esteemed guest make his way towards them at the foot of their palace. They glanced at each other for the briefest of moments, a mutual understanding of planning being met in such a short glimpse, one would never notice were they not scrutinizing the royal couple.

The Wizard King came before them at the front of the door, taking a knee and bowing theatrically. "Your Majesties," he began, "Thank you for allowing me the chance to come to your _lovely_ kingdom to discuss business with you."

"Please, My King, that's not necessary," Sheila smiled, looking at Liane's son with a fondness falling over her green stare as he raised back onto his feet politely waiting for their go aheads. He looked just like his mother, the soft chestnut hair, those glowing amber eyes, and that relaxed demeanor all over him. She sighed to herself, wondering vaguely if people looked at her eldest son and thought the same. "We were rather surprised to get your letter, Eric," she said. "We weren't expecting such an offer."

He clasped his hands in front of him and shrugged, "My mother...She wished for our lands to be united against the prospective enemies of our great land, as you yourself have dreamed, Your Majesty."

Sheila nodded sadly, folding her fingers into her hand. "Come along, then. Let's discuss within the conference room."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he murmured, turning and jerking his head for Butters and Garrison to follow, leaving a grumpy Craig standing at the carriage with crossed arms. The thief's grey eyes flashed a warning: 'Hurry back'. Cartman huffed out a small laugh, turning from him and walking inside, eyes glancing around the elven palace disinterestedly. He'd seen it only once before, finding it far too 'naturey' for his tastes. Some things apparently never changed.

As the small group passed, a pair of blue and green eyes watched them cautiously from the shadows. Kyle licked his lips, stepping from behind a large pillar and beginning to make way towards them as they turned a corner of the main hallway before a gentle hand holding his shoulder stopped him. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

Stan smirked crookedly, "I know that look, My Prince. You cannot attack a king without just cause."

He huffed, taking his shoulder back and crossing his arms. "I wasn't going to _attack_ him, I was merely going to ask questions," he said blandly.

"Questions like 'how well do you take a punch'?" another voice perked. They looked to the side to see Prince Ike approaching them with a small chuckle. "Ky, you look like you're about to set someone on fire."

"Well, with his mass, it'd keep our people warm for eons," he scoffed.

Ike snorted, stepping next to and elbowing his older brother. "So, any idea what they're here for?"

"'Peace treaty'," he air-quoted. "Though I really don't think that's it," he added.

The twelve year old smacked his lips and shrugged, "And if it is?"

"Then I must be as Canadian as yourself to be so foolish," he smirked, stepping off towards the throne room with the other two in tow and missing his brother's pout. Ike sighed, taking in his brother's straight, authoritative posture and trying to mimic it, flipping off Stan as he stared at him funnily.

The ranger chuckled, "Where is Filmore, Ike?"

"I sent him on break," he muttered, glancing at Kyle's hands and trying to figure out how his slender fingers linked together in front of him so flawlessly while his own looked as though they were trying to strangle one another.

Kyle looked at him and raised his brow, "You can send _your_ guard on break?" He scoffed, looking back at the tall boy trailing him. "When do _I_ get that option?" he teased.

"When I'm dead in the ground, Your Highness," he smiled sweetly, laughing as Kyle shook his head and turned his attention back forward.

They made their way to the conference room, attempting to head past the guards before a hand stopped Kyle by the chest. The guard looked at him with a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but we've been instructed to keep you out here."

Kyle blinked before narrowing his eyes. "Ex _cuse_ me?" he demanded. "Keep me out? Why?! Is there some sort of conspiracy against me transpiring in there?!" he pointed towards the door angrily.

"I'm not sure what is being discussed, Prince Kyle," he shrugged. "But Her Majesty told us to keep you, and any potential spies for you," he added with a glance towards the two noirettes on either side of the prince, "out here and out of earshot."

Kyle's jaw dropped, looking at his brother and best friend for answers, both of them staring back cluelessly. "I don't believe this," he muttered, turning from the guard and storming down the hall back where they came from. "I don't _believe_ this!" he repeated in a shout, voice echoing angrily along the tall ceilings. "Keep _me_ out?! This has Cartman's shitty handwriting _all_ over it," he spat, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Mom and Dad have _never_ barred me from a diplomatic meeting before, they _encourage_ me to attend them!" he gritted his teeth.

"Maybe it's because of your bias?" Ike shrugged with a wince. "I mean...you do _hate_ King Fatass."

"And with good reason," he wagged his bony finger as they continued their way down the hall towards the inner sanctuary. "He knows that I can see right _through_ his little suck up attitude. He remembers me ratting him out all those years ago," he huffed. He'd never forget the purely murderous expression on the brunette's face when he'd managed to easily unravel his lie with a tiny discrepancy he'd noticed from the story of 'the chicken took the danish'. He'd stood there smugly while Liane lectured the nine year old for lying, especially in front of fellow diplomats. Cartman had flipped Kyle off behind his back, the redhead calling him out on that as well and watching with a wide smile as the glutton was escorted to his room as punishment. He knew just how to see through a lying sack of shit, and he knew that there was no better deserver of such a title than Eric fucking Cartman.

Stan sighed, "My Prince, please. You promised to try."

"And I _did_ ," he replied sharply, pushing open the double doors of the sanctuary and leading them inside. "I was going to be _fair_ ," he mocked. "But then _he_ bars me from a treaty discussion? _He's_ the one not willing to put in the effort, Stanley."

The ranger and Ike sighed, shaking their heads at the fuming prince. Kyle stopped in the middle of the sanctuary's aisle, looking through the glass walls and ceiling surrounding them to stare off into the sky. His eyes slid back down to the angel oak at the forefront of the haven, bursting through the tops of the glass. Heavy branches cascaded down, touching the floor like God's hands themselves. Kyle sighed through his nose, slowly making way up towards the sacred wood and kneeling down beside a large branch, putting his hands on the bark and letting the power of the mighty plant seep into the marrow of his bones. A cleansing breath washed through him, his shoulders rolling back and his posture slackening in the slightest. Stan and Ike watched in awe, wondering just what it was he was feeling. Being humans themselves, they'd never understood why or how elves would come and touch the tree, clearing their minds and spirits alike.

Kyle felt the ridges of the bark under his palm coming to life, feeling every breath the tree took in unison with him and smiling to himself. This tree was his home, it was his past and his future. It held him down within the present, assuring him time and again that no matter what the storm, no matter how horrid the winds, rings would continue to form, buds would continue to sprout. He was the moss to this mighty giant, relishing in the shade, feeling the roots continuing to spread beneath him as he hung tightly and basked in its presence. His thumbs ran lovingly over the wood, face spreading into a contented smile as his energy was renewed, his magic at its peak once more.

He took another long breath, pulling his hands from the wood, not wishing to burden the tree any longer with his needs. He folded his fingers atop his lap, staring up at the twisted turns of the branches jutting to and fro against the sky, lips mumbling a silent prayer for the tree's strength and wisdom to guide him through what seemed to be such a dilemma within him. Letting his trust get the best of him was a fear he'd always held, one that he _knew_ was validated just by the amount of backstabbing ways he'd heard of in his short lifetime. " _Please,_ " he whispered, his voice whisking through and around leaves, holding them with the warmth of an embrace. _"Let my fears be wrong, let their judgement be right..."_ he reopened his spring green eyes, jaw shaking with anxiety.

"Prince Kyle? Are you all right?" a voice popped from the far side of the sanctuary. The group looked over to see Token and Clyde watching the redhead in concern. Token stepped towards him, deep brown eyes glimmering with worry. "Does something trouble you, Your Highness?"

Kyle looked from the cleric back up towards the tree, tucking stray curls behind his ear. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "I feel as though something has the potential to go horridly wrong with Kupa Keep's presence. But...no one else seems to agree," he looked back at Stan and Ike shadily who sighed together again.

Kyle looked to see Token's hand held down, blinking and grasping it to allow him to pull him back up onto his feet. The boy stared at him with a sad smile, "You worry too much, Your Highness."

"Yes. So I've been told," he shot another look at an amused Stan. He glanced back at the cleric, "Token, what do _you_ think will come of this treaty?"

"With any hope, if I do say so, My Prince, peace," he replied quietly.

The redhead shrugged, "I don't see any issue with how we've been. Quiet disharmony seems to be working rather well in either favor."

"Except trade is impossible, tensions are high, and we live in constant fear of one another," Clyde inputted before clearing his throat embarrassedly. "My apologies, Your Highness, I didn't mean to speak out-"

He stopped as Kyle waved the apology off with a sigh. "You know I trust your judgement, Clyde," he addressed the warrior. "I trust _all_ of you," he looked at the four surrounding him. "However, your confidence in the King of Sustenance in there is...baffling," he narrowed his eyes.

Token cleared his throat, "My Prince, it's not so much confidence as it is...hope," he replied softly, gently placing a hand on Kyle's shoulder and turning him back to face the Sacred Tree. "Like this tree, that gives you elves hope and strength, so does the promise of a better tomorrow for Zaron to all of us," he said.

"This tree brings results," Kyle said firmly. "A _possible_ treaty does not."

"You say this tree brings results," Token repeated. "But...the four of us are human," he gestured to those surrounding the elven prince. "We can only trust what _you_ say this tree can do. We have to rely on pure faith in you to believe that it holds the magical properties that it does. Just as _you_ must have faith that these negotiations could very well be a key to something wonderful."

Kyle looked at the man and sighed tiredly, putting a hand on the one resting atop his shoulder. "Thank you, Token," he murmured. "But..." he stopped, looking through the glass and up to the topmost branch spiraling into the sky. "Until I know just what it is that _king_ wants to fall onto my people, I'm afraid I just can't go on blind faith. Our future is too important to be left to mere dreams."

* * *

Sheila and Gerald stared at the three across from them, tapping their fingers atop the table and glancing at each other impatiently as they waited for their final guest. The group looked over as the door flew open, Lord Mackey coming into the room and clearing his throat. "My apologies, Your Majesties," he bowed. "There was some trouble within the kitchen m'kay?"

"That's fine, have a seat, Lord Mackey," Gerald nodded. The man sat to the other side of the queen, both sets of three looking at each other firmly. "Now, Eric," Gerald began. "We would like for you to explain _exactly_ what you're wanting to offer."

The brunette smiled, "I'm sure Your Majesties are aware of the beautiful Princess Kendra of my land?"

Sheila brightened at the name, "Yes. Lovely girl. So helpful and kind to your subjects. Very charitable. Liane would praise her for hours," she smiled.

Cartman nodded curtly, "Yes. Well, she turned of courting age on the first day of spring. And we are aware that Prince Kyle turned of age just a few weeks ago, correct?"

Gerald nodded slowly, "That's right. We've yet to announce his season, we've been preparing to throw a banquet for him to meet eligible prospective partners."

Eric grinned, "What if Princess Kendra were to be that partner?"

Sheila blinked, "The princess? The _human_ princess?"

He shrugged, "Your Majesty, I beg you to consider the possibilities: Our kingdoms joined by the force of these two leaders-to-be. Human and elf, unionized through the sanctity of marriage. The kindness of my princess matched with the morality of your son that you've so graciously instilled in him," he gestured to them, kicking Garrison under the table as the duke rolled his eyes. "I believe these two could be the driving force to bringing our kingdoms together, each of them recognizing the true _goodness_ of the other species and coming to the unanimous consensus of peace and prosperity between us."

Gerald and Sheila looked at each other, the king nodding for his wife to take the reins. She cleared her throat, "King Eric...elves and humans have _never_ married one another," she said slowly. "Kyle was to be presented to the eligible _elven_ partners from across the different Drow factions."

"I'm well aware," he assured her. "Lady McCormick was to be put through the same with humans. However, I think that breaking this tradition could be beneficial."

"Not so much breakin' tradition," Butters hurriedly intervened at the sight of Sheila's brow crinkling at the phrase. "Think of it as, startin' a new one," he insisted. "One that your son would be at the helm of, showin' people all over the land just how good the rule of an elf can be for 'em." Cartman nodded subtly in approval at the paladin as the queen calmed. This was exactly why he brought him in, Butters knew just how to dispel any mismatched phrases that Eric could possibly overlook to suit the Drow's tastes.

Sheila sighed, putting her finger to her chin. "There is another problem."

"Yes?" Eric encouraged.

She looked up at him with those recognizable emerald eyes and Cartman took a deep breath to control himself from the rage he could feel in his chest. "Kyle is our only pureblood son, as you know," she started quietly.

"Yes, young Prince Ike hails from Canada, does he not?" Garrison questioned.

She smiled and nodded, "He was abandoned in our sacred forest," she flickered her eyes quickly to Eric and he winced a bit before she turned her attention back to the duke. "We love him all the same as we do Kyle...But Kyle is a young elf who has not yet found love."

"And we hope he can find it in our prin-" Eric started before Sheila held up her hand.

The queen heaved a deep breath. "Love is not the same for elves as it is for humans," she explained. "At an elf's eligibility banquet, it's not so much a meet and greet as it is a...love at first sight," she winced. Eric cocked his brow confusedly and she continued. "We are blessed with the gift of knowing our soulmate right off the bat," she explained. "All elves are attuned with one another to know when they meet whom they'll spend the rest of their lives with," she reached over and grasped Gerald's hand, their fingers linking together lovingly. "Should Kyle marry your princess, and then happen to _meet_ the one that he was meant to be with...it'll destroy him," she said softly.

"Destroy?" Garrison raised his brow. "What? He can't just drink 'em off his mind?" He hissed as Eric kicked him again, staring at the queen intensively.

"Go on, My Queen," he waved her along.

"Without the one you're destined to be with, an elf's life loses meaning," she said sadly. "It's a beautiful, but fatal flaw in our ways. Kyle would wither into nothingness, have to be cared for before it..." she looked down and bit her lip.

Cartman nodded in understanding, "It'd kill him. Literally."

"Yes," she whispered, wishing she could spare her son from such a cruel fate in the end of his life. It was the ultimate irony of their race: How parents longed for their children to live long and happy lives, but for them to die first within their families to spare them the utter destruction of their inner selves, more often than not their death becoming more prolonged and painful than that of their lover. "So, you can understand our concerns in such a matter."

Eric bit his cheek. Leave it to the elves to make even fucking _love_ something deadly. He sighed, "I still believe that the union is for the best. Kyle would stay within your lands, ruling your kingdom. That way the elves are not intimidated by a human as their 'first in command'," he air-quoted, "But they could learn to understand and tolerate us as word of their succession as a monarchy spreads within Kupa Keep and opens up to the possibility of diversity among us." He looked at their skeptical faces and cleared his throat, folding his hands on the table before him. "With... _all_ due respect, Your Majesties...Your son is the key to our union. Missing such a ripe opportunity could take lifetimes to readjust to match potential royalty to the proper age bracket should we forgo this and regret it in the future. The three of us missing out on this could potentially lead to yet another great war, which _none_ of us want to happen," he emphasized. "The question is, what's more risky: Your son finding his true love that could be stationed in the Drow faction of Canada and will never meet for all you know? Or the lives of all our people being cut down because we couldn't take that chance?"

Gerald sighed, putting his hand over his mouth and looking at the table concernedly. "This would be the first arranged marriage of an elf," he said quietly. "Kyle wouldn't take this easily, especially with all the stories of what happiness his soulmate will bring him that we've told him."

"It's been a very long time since I've seen your son," Cartman shrugged listlessly. "But, if he's the same as he was then, he cares for the progression of your people. He wishes to see them happy. Does that still remain a truth?"

Sheila smiled and nodded, "Yes. He's shaping up to be a kind and generous king. He will make Larnion a prosperous land without a doubt."

"Then he'll understand," he assured them. "A good ruler is prepared to sacrifice it all for his people, and I doubt Prince Kyle is any different."

The man and woman looked at each other worriedly, turning to the Lordship to their right. "Lord Mackey? Opinion?" Gerald questioned.

The man gulped, "M'kay...I have to agree with King Eric on this one," he winced. "He's right, if the prince never meets his soulmate, then there's no harm done to him. Opening up possibilities with Kupa Keep is almost too amazing of an opportunity to pass up, m'kay?"

Sheila nodded softly, letting out a soft sigh through her painted lips. This _was_ worth the risk...She closed her eyes, hoping that Kyle would view it in the same light. "Very well," she said quietly. "Let's draw up the terms of the contract, King Eric." She paused and cleared her throat, "Just when will Kyle and the princess meet?"

Eric smiled, amber eyes glittering excitedly in the sunlight beaming through the open windows. "She's just outside in the carriage," he purred. "So let's get the details ironed out, and then we can go right ahead and introduce our two lovebirds."


	4. An Unsought Convergence

Kyle quietly led his group of four through the hallways of the palace, walking to pass time and to try to alleviate the utter tension that was building within him yet again. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he caught a pair of servants staring at him and whispering before scurrying back off to their corners, coming to a stop and the group nearly crashing into him.

"My Prince?" Stan blinked. "Are you all right?"

"Why are people staring at me?" he muttered, eyes swooping about the grand woodland corridor.

Ike cocked his brow, "You noticed, too? I thought I was going crazy."

"What is going on?" he groaned, rubbing his temple tiredly. "Everyone looks like they're about to piss themselves they're running around so fucking frantically."

"Perhaps tensions are merely high with the arrival of King Eric, Your Highness," Clyde offered with a small shrug.

"Perhaps," he mused, beginning to step off before a shout stopped them.

"Prince Kyle?" They whirled around to find a handmaiden of his mothers curtsying respectably, a large, thin wooden box clutched in her right arm.

The prince cocked his head, "Yes?"

"Your mother instructed me to give you this parcel," she said, handing the box towards him. He cocked his brow, taking it and staring at the embossed golden design. "She wants you to put it on right away and promises she'll be up within the next ten minutes to explain, Your Highness."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Thank you, you're dismissed." She curtsied once more before turning and making her way back to her duties. Kyle twisted his lips, moving to head towards his room. "Put it on, huh?" he muttered. "Clothes. Why am I getting new fucking _clothes_?"

"Perhaps the treaty was struck," Token suggested. "And she wishes for you to look your best to meet King Eric once more."

The redhead scoffed, opening the door and waving his permission for the group to all follow him up the stairs. "That sack of shit should be grateful if I'd so much as consider rags to be good enough attire for him," he rolled his eyes. "I don't care much for dressing to impress, especially when it's against one so garish that anything I wear will be outshone by a fucking diamond the size of my head on his belt."

Ike chuckled, "That makes you better. Shows that the elves are more practical when compared to the greediness of the Kupa Keep monarchy."

"Precisely," he said thickly, breaching the top of his stairs and heading towards his bed, quickly folding his sheets over on top of themselves to hide stains he and Stan had missed before setting the box down. He slowly unlatched the gorgeously carved oaken parcel, brow raising as he lifted the lid to reveal robes of splendor within. "What the fuck," he blinked, pulling out a long, emerald green silk robe that draped down to his knees, embroidered silver leaves floating along the lining in astoundingly intricate detail.

Ike let out a long whistle, "Wow. Fancy."

Kyle looked at his little brother, "Why, if this is for Fatass, aren't _you_ getting new clothes?"

The Canadian shrugged. "Well, I'm not next in line, and I probably won't rule Larnion, so I guess you're the important one here."

Kyle let out a thoughtful 'hmm', taking his box and moving to behind his dressing screen, slowly beginning to strip out of his clothes while staring intently at the package. "Something about this is making me...uncomfortable," he admitted. He paused, seeing a note lying upon new leather pigeon grey boots. He grasped it with gentle fingers, revealing his mother's handwriting.

' _Kyle, this is very important. Please clean up as best you can to make yourself presentable. I will be up shortly to inform you of your next step. I'm very proud of you.'_

"What the _fuck_ ," he repeated. "Ike," he called, balling up the note and tossing it over the screen. "Tell me if you can figure out what the hell you can read from this." He began sliding on the thick, tight white pants enclosed in the collection, hearing Ike picking up the paper and unfurling the page.

The short noirette cocked his head confusedly. "Well, I mean...It all makes sense..."

"Until that last part, right?" Kyle cocked his brow as he began to slip on and lace up his new boots, cringing uncomfortably at the stiffened leather being constricted along his calves. He looked at his worn brown shoes with a pout, wishing he could just slip them back on. This situation was awful enough without adding fucking fashion into the mix.

"Right," Ike agreed. "We all know Mom isn't proud of you," he smirked.

The redhead rolled his eyes, "Oh, fuck off." He finally slipped on his second boot, raising and lowering himself on his toes to stretch out the material as he grasped a loose cranberry undershirt and threw it on, shaking his head as it brushed through his curls. "I just don't get it," he said, straightening out the sleeves and grabbing the silk coat waiting for him. He stroked the smooth material in his hands, lips twisting. "Everything about this arrangement is just coming out of nowhere."

"No arrangements happen without reason, Your Highness," Token reminded him gently. "Her Majesty probably just believes that since you are our future monarch and will be ruling Zaron with King Eric considering your ages, it's pertinent that you meet with him and present yourself as a worthy heir."

Kyle scoffed, slipping on the robe and quickly fastening the buttons hidden on the inner edges and letting it attach across his chest, the edges of the fabric splitting apart and cascading in a dignified billow down the length of the silk. He silently adjusted his long sleeves to drape delicately off his wrists like the touch of a lover, thumbs coming to straighten and flatten his collar and taking a deep breath. "I'm heir whether he likes it or not. Clothes will not change that matter," he said firmly. He stepped out from behind his screen, the four of them looking at him with wide eyes.

"Wow." Ike laughed softly. " _Super_ fancy there, Ky."

The redhead blushed, looking down at his outfit, "You think I can convince her to let me change?" he winced.

Stan smiled adoringly, "You look fantastic, My Prince. Like the elven heir you are."

"Don't say that, because that makes me think I'll _always_ have to dress so ridiculously when I take the throne," he huffed, walking to his mirror and fixing up his hair. "I just wonder why Ma had these clothes stashed away."

"To save for a special occasion," a loving voice breeched the air. They turned to see Sheila standing on the landing of the steps with her hands clasped, eyes gleaming proudly. Token, Clyde, and Stan hopped to their feet from Kyle's bed and bowed, the queen waving them off. She patted Ike's head, "Look at your brother," she cooed. "Doesn't he look like a king?"

"Uh, no. He looks like Kyle in fancy clothes," he said dryly. Sheila chuckled and kissed his forehead, beckoning Kyle to come up in front of her. The redhead noticed the hint of worry lingering in her stare and he gulped. The air here felt too tensive for this to be a mere peaceful agreement.

He made his way up towards her, blushing as Sheila adjusted his robe just slightly and sighed happily. "You look so grown in this. I knew this color would be the best for you," she said with a fondness.

"Ma, what's going on?" Kyle finally demanded. She looked up at him and they locked stares, one demanding answers, the other praying for understanding.

"Kyle..." she placed a hand on his shoulder and he frowned, dropping to one knee and looking up at her confusedly. She sighed, "Kyle, I have an important question to ask you." Kyle nodded her along slowly and she bit her lip. "What matters more to you: Your life, or your people's?"

The redhead jerked back a bit in the abruptness of the question. "Our people," he answered without a moment's hesitation, head swimming with the possibilities of where this was leading up towards.

"And...you'd do _anything_ for the preservation and the progression of the elven race?" she asked.

"Of course," he narrowed his eyes in the slightest.

She smiled sadly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a handkerchief, slowly unraveling the soft, ivory linen and revealing a silver chain. She pulled it out for Kyle to see, his head cocking at a small branch charm on the edge. "Petrified from the Sacred Tree," she told him softly. "Each member of our family receives one when the time is right, when their loyalty to Larnion is put to the test." Kyle looked around at the other bewildered faces before looking back at his mother as she leaned down, hooking the chain around his neck and watching it gently fall to his clavicle. She gulped, backing up and staring at her befuddled son.

"Ma," he repeated. "What is going _on_?"

"Stanley," she said, not letting her eyes break from her son's. "Bring me his crown."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Stan said, hurriedly making way to Kyle's vanity and digging for the key to the box holding the precious accessory. The confusion was mounting by the _second_. Kyle _never_ wore his crown unless visiting other lands or attending grand gatherings. All was silent but the scuffling of Stan's boots as he finally grasped the vine crown, thin wood circling about with branches jutting towards the sky. With delicate hands, he began making way to the royals and bowing as he presented it to the queen.

She nodded at him, "Thank you, Stanley." He bowed once more and backed up between Clyde and Token to continue watching the show. She brushed stray curls atop Kyle's scalp into place, gently setting the crown in its position around his head. She sighed tiredly. "Kyle, our kingdom needs your cooperation."

"With...?" he raised his brow.

The queen cleared her throat. "Have you heard of Princess Kendra of Kupa Keep?"

Kyle blinked, "Yes. I've heard of her."

"Well...she became of age to be courted a few months before yourself," she started. Kyle's jaw slowly dropped, every ounce of worry in his chest beginning to burst with life. If this was going where he _thought_ it was going... Sheila straightened herself up and took a long breath, her stern face taking hold. "You will be taking her hand and ruling Larnion together."

"WHAT?!" Kyle screamed, hopping up to his feet as the boys surrounding them watched in shock. "You want me to _marry_ a fucking _human_?!" he seethed. "You want a _human_ to rule over the elves?! Have you lost your goddamn mind?!"

She frowned, "Kyle, this is for _peace_."

"Peace for _who_?" he seethed.

"For our kingdoms!" she snapped. "Your union will bring prosperity between us. Trades can begin anew, friendships can spawn! Think of the possibilities, Kyle!"

He stared at her, mind raging war between pure fury and utter shock, entire body shaking. "I don't _want_ to be forced to marry someone!" he finally bit. "No other elven royalty has had to! Why do _I_ have to be the one it starts with?!" he gestured to himself desperately.

"Because your season has not been presented, so what you do is still dictated by myself and your father," she reminded him sternly. Kyle's breathing picked up its pace, pupils pinpoints as he looked between his friends and brother. His eyes landed on Stan, who looked absolutely devastated by such a turn of events and his heart lurched.

"You can't do this," he pleaded. "Mom. _Please_. I don't know this person! She doesn't know _us_ ," he gestured to the lot of them. "The Drow will never accept her as one of their own!"

She sighed, "And that's why _you_ are the perfect match for Her Highness, Kyle," she insisted. "You know the _people_. And that's what matters in a kingdom. You can show her how wonderful life within the faction is! You can teach her our ways, let her see for herself just what a life it is she's marrying into! You get to stay here, Bubbie," she said, reaching up and cupping his cheeks. "Larnion will forever be your home. There's no risk of losing you to another land...Please," she pleaded.

He stared at her, lip trembling. "You're denying me a happy future," he said bitterly. "You're forbidding me to meet my soulmate...and _promising_ that I'll be miserable the rest of my life."

"I'm promising the happiness of your people, Kyle," she corrected gently. "You know they come first."

"I know...but...why can't I have both?" he said miserably.

She sighed, "Because it never happens that way, Kyle. Not for matters like this. Everyone must lose something."

"Seems to me _I'm_ the only one losing something in this," he pulled away from her hands and crossed his arms.

She sighed once more, "Princess Kendra is not overly joyful of the union either. She's going to be losing her homeland. She'll no longer be princess to those she's worked so hard to build relationships with...She's sacrificing even more than yourself for this union, Kyle, because _she_ sees the opportunity we have. Don't prove the humans right. Don't let them think that we don't know how to compromise." He looked at her slowly, seeing the desperation shining in her eyes. "Please. Remember that your duties to the Drow comes first. You yourself must always remain strong for _them_. And now, your second duty comes to _her_."

He shook his head, biting his lip angrily. "This isn't fair, Ma."

"I know," she said softly, placing an understanding hand on his arm. "But you know that you want peace, Kyle. Well, _you_ can be the one to make it happen." Kyle refused to look at her, heart torn asunder by the overwhelming possibilities fighting for dominance within him, frustrated tears beading his eyes. "Come on," she said softly, placing a hand on his back. "It's time for you to meet your bride."

* * *

Kendra sat silently in the carriage, blue eyes half-lidded in boredom as she stared at the seat opposite her. She sighed, leaning back and flicking the sheer, soft mesh covering her skirt, white and tangerine gradient running down the length of the fabric to the floor. She winced, adjusting the straps of her dress, glaring at the covered 'breasts' that she'd had to prepare, angrily hitting one of the rounded fabric balls resting against her chest. Carefully, she adjusted the scarf around her face; white and gold cresting against her tanned skin. She hated this outfit with a passion, the overwhelming detail stitched into the sherbet silk covering her body making her feel like she was constantly going to slip out of the dress, the beading weighing it down enough it could drop from her at any moment. It could ruin _everything_.

She looked over as the door to the carriage came alive with a knocking, looking as Cartman poked his head in and smiled evilly. "We have a marriage," he cooed. Kendra's heart dropped, apparently her adamant wishing that the Drows would've killed the Wizard King within their walls had went unheeded. Seems Butters was right, they just weren't inherently violent. Pity.

Cartman held out his hand, Kendra taking a long, deep breath and clutching it back, allowing the glutton to help her out of the carriage and onto the Drow land. She gulped, looking to see an array of elven guards watching her suspiciously, dropping her gaze to the ground, fingers clutching one another and uncomfortably shifting her weight. "Don't worry, Your Highness," Butters perked up from beside her. "Why, why the family is _super_ nice. They can't wait to make ya part of the family!" he beamed. She rolled her eyes. Always the enthusiast. She mindlessly reached back, grabbing her braid and draping it over her shoulder, biting her lips under her scarf. This had to go well, for Karen's sake...She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was worth it. She _had_ to believe that.

She looked in shock as a loud voice broke through the front yard of the palace. "M'kay," Mackey stood and nodded atop the foot of the large steps. "Welcome to our land, Princess Kendra," he bowed to her, getting a small nod back. "May I present your betrothed, m'kay?" he gestured dramatically towards the front doors as they opened. "His Royal Highness, Prince Kyle of the Broflovski clan!" Kendra watched nervously, Cartman standing beside her with crossed arms, waiting impatiently to see Kendra's horrified face at the gangly, bucktoothed boy of his youth.

They both watched as a slender redhead dressed in gorgeous green attire came to the foot of the steps, watching them both from the distance hesitantly. The king snorted, "Can't stay that far forever, Kahl," he murmured.

Kyle gulped, seeing the tall blonde waiting down the way and looking at his mother as she stepped beside him. "She's taller than me," he hissed.

"Everyone's taller than you, Kyle," Ike said blandly, holding in a yelp as Kyle kicked him with the point of his boot.

The elder prince continued staring at his mother. "Nothing a man wants more than to be out heightened by his _wife_ ," he said through gritted teeth.

"Height doesn't matter," she said cooly. "What matters is treatment, which you are _failing_ in," she snapped subtly. "Go greet her as you are supposed to."

Kyle groaned softly, looking to Stan who offered him a forced encouraging smile. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, straightening himself out and beginning to gracefully descend the steps. He hit the walkway and moved towards the group with a heightened sense of dignity that the crowd watching could feel emanating from the small prince. Cartman watched with a raised brow as he approached, catching the gorgeous, soft curls falling atop his head like the natural fold of cloth. His jade eyes were softened from the anger of their youth, every bit of him grown into itself, carrying the air of a king about him. He nearly growled, looking to see Kendra staring at him and blinking as he approached, looking more nervous than disgusted. The king inwardly pouted, upset one of the better parts of his plan had been swiped away by the hands of a puberty gone right.

Kyle's eyes drifted over the princess, the way her shining blue eyes stood brightly against her complexion. The way her sandy hair drifted in soft wisps in its braid and she seemed to hold a quiet personality around her like a shield. He sighed to himself. Well. She wasn't ugly. At least he had _that_ in his favor. He cocked his brow slightly at the scarf around her mouth, trying not to stare at it as he finally approached her, shoulders sinking at the clear half a foot height difference. Great.

He came to a stop in front of her and took a deep, controlling breath, placing his hand across his waist and bowing. "Welcome to Larnion, Princess," he said clearly, forcing himself to keep the spite out of his voice. He grabbed her hand, kissing the back of the glove and scrunching his face quick enough for no one to notice, standing back and watching her curtsey for him. He cleared his throat. "Were your travels enjoyable, Your Highness?" She nodded. He blinked. "Fantastic. Have you eaten?" A shake of the head. He offered her a reassuring smile, hiding himself digging his thumbnail into his palm in frustration within his folded hands. "What clan do you hail from?" he asked, avoiding another possible nod.

"She hails from the clan of McCormick," Cartman answered for her.

"Thank you, _Your Majesty_ ," he said through gritted teeth forced into a smile. Eric smirked superiorly at the lesser, relishing in his victory over the Drow. "However, I'd _like_ to hear Princess Kendra answer me, if His Majesty wouldn't _mind_ ," he kept up his smile, eye subtly twitching.

He shrugged casually, "You'll be waiting a long time then."

Kyle blinked, looking up at the blonde. "Are you so shy, Princess?"

She shook her head embarrassedly and he cocked his own confusedly. The Wizard King chuckled, "She's a mute. She communicates through paper and quill."

Kyle's blood may as well have turned to ice in that moment, the horrific circumstance smacking into his face as though Cartman's hand itself had slammed against his cheek. He kept up the smile, "Well. How...quaint," he forced out. He turned and looked at his parents and friends observing with worried faces. "A diplomat who can't speak. How _quaint_ ," he repeated, body twitching with anger as he turned to look back at his betrothed who was looking down guiltily. Kyle's shoulders sunk and he winced, taking a deep breath. _'For the people, Kyle. For_ _ **your**_ _people_.' He tapped her arm, getting her attention back on him and offering her an actual smile, holding out his hand. "We'll make it work," he promised. She blinked in shock at the kindness and took his hand, allowing him to pivot and begin leading her back down the way side by side towards the palace. He looked to see his mother and father beaming with pride and sighed to himself, the princess's hand seeming to burn against his skin. His mantra continued to echo in his head, the calamity of events of the day being beaten down by three simple words: _For your people._


	5. Threads of Connectivity

Perhaps leaving the group of teenagers to their own devices was not in the best interest of the king and queen, but they knew that Kyle had to be the one to make the peace within the group. Their interference would be nothing but an annoyance amongst the small clan. Kyle walked with Cartman or Kendra on either side of him, Stan standing to the back and watching the Wizard King suspiciously for any sudden moves to be made against his prince. He didn't like the look and feel of mischief that he could feel from the monarch, didn't like what his fucking plans had took from him in the end.

"Have you ever seen Drow land before, Princess?" Kyle asked, trying to keep a 'conversation' building between them. The blonde glanced down at him and shook her head, her braid swishing over her shoulder in a soft rasp against her dress' silk sleeve. He offered a smile, "Well, it's quite wonderful. I think you'll enjoy learning of our culture."

Cartman scoffed, "Yeah, if one enjoys the prospects of being involved in a land that uses bark as currency."

Kyle scowled, looking towards the taller dignitary and letting out a long breath, giving a sarcastic grin. "Well, not _all_ of us can afford the luxury of using pies as our way of life." The king narrowed his eyes, Kyle returning the expression, both of them shrugging off the hands of Butters and Stan as they tried to calm the boys down. Kyle finally turned from him back to his betrothed and cleared his throat. "For the record, we don't use 'bark'," he rolled his eyes. "What we have are polished wooden coins that we use amongst our villages. That way if someone from say, _Kupa Keep_ ," he flickered his eyes to a frowning Cartman, "were to come and rob us, then it would be useless outside of our respective properties."

Kendra cocked her head, waving Butters beside her and grabbing the paper and quill he was carrying with him, quickly jotting down a note as Kyle watched uncomfortably. She handed him her parchment and watched him with interest as he read, ' _So what do you use if one travels outside the lands of the Drow?'_

Kyle smiled a bit, looking back at her curious stare and feeling a sliver of relief. At least she seemed to _care_ about his land's customs. He handed her back the paper, "We rarely travel outside the lands," he explained. "When one does for royal business, we have a small collection of human currency stashed away for such an occasion. Now and then, if a Drow travels to the human land and finds themselves in possession of currency, if they can _prove_ that it was taken fairly, then we'll exchange the value of the human money with that of our own coins as payment."

"Which is _why_ we have to keep Drows away from our treasuries," Eric scoffed. "Just who _knows_ what you all consider to be 'fairly'."

"Taken or traded with _permission_ ," he seethed bitterly. "Elves are an honest race. We don't care much for deception as it interferes with the progression of a well-founded society. Something you _humans_ have yet to seem to grasp." He didn't notice as Kendra gulped and nervously tucked hair behind her ear, eyes flittering about the massive corridor.

"Have you not noticed that _you_ are the only elf in this group?" Eric raised his brow, stopping his gait and the rest of the party halting with him.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "Perhaps. But Stanley, Token, and Clyde have been raised among the elves. They know our values. They hold them as dearly within them as I do myself. Your paladin seems to be of the trustworthy note," he gestured to a beaming Butters. "And Princess Kendra has shown no signs of deception, so I can _only_ assume that she holds the same policies. So far, the only one here exhibiting any hint of mendacity is yourself, Your Majesty," he said with the subtle, spitting ferocity of fire.

Cartman growled, turning to face the small elf. "Oh?" he cocked his brow. "And just _how_ have I done so, _Kahl?"_

The redhead bristled, the mispronunciation bringing about stilted, angry memories of childhood. The way the glutton wouldn't stop, refusing to grant him even the slightest respect or dignity of his _name_. "Who comes to a land to proclaim friendship and insults their _currency_ of all things?" he hissed.

Cartman growled at the disrespectful tone, "Keep in mind I'm of a higher ranking, _Prince_."

"Keep in mind that _I'm_ now betrothed," he said bitterly. "Which means when _I_ take the throne, I'll already be far ahead of you, _King_ ," he fired back.

He scoffed, leaning down towards the boy's stern face. "Betrothed to _my_ given woman of _my_ land, Jew."

"A woman who will be acclimated to the processes of _my_ people, Fatass," he growled. "You seem to forget that when you marry into a land, you are part of _that_ land. Where you come from holds very little bearing except in proclamation of your training alone."

He flicked Kyle's nose and the redhead growled furiously. "I don't think that counts here," he said darkly. "Two different _species_ is a little different than your father taking that Jersian and letting her drown in your culture..." he paused and smirked. "Though, I can tell the blood of her rushes through you. You're _certainly_ pigheaded enough."

Kyle bared his teeth, eyes spitting threats if the king didn't back out of his fucking face. "You're one to be calling someone _pig_ headed, Tubby!" he hissed.

Amber eyes slitted dangerously, "You _little_ -"

"Sir, stop!" Butters pleaded, running back to his side and pulling Eric back. "Your Majesty, this ain't right," he pouted. "C'mon, now, ya promised not t' fight with His Highness," he gestured to the fuming elf.

Stan gulped, putting a hand on the trembling Drow's shoulder. "My Prin-" he stopped with a vicious side glance. "Ky," he corrected. "Please. This is for you and the princess, not for _him_ ," he jerked his head towards the glutton.

"I am a sovereign, may I remind you, Ranger," Cartman warned lowly.

"Not in this land you're not," Kyle narrowed his eyes. "You are a _guest_. And you will treat my subjects with _kindness_ when you are within my walls." He stepped back up towards the heavyweight, green clashing against brown like a swamp, drowning all those who stood beside them in the thick, soupy tension. "Your ranking doesn't matter here," he said. "Here, my ranger is above your standing. And so is _she_ ," he gestured back to Kendra who blinked in surprise. "She's not ' _your'_ woman anymore," he said lowly. "We don't pretend to own people here."

He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, "You have _servants."_

"Paid help, actually," he said thickly, turning on his heel and continuing to lead the group down the halls. "The term servant is just that, a term. Servants are paid, they get to go home or live in the quarters we provide, whichever they prefer. They can come and go from the job as they please. _Your_ help comes down to being nothing more than _slaves_ ," he hissed in disgust.

Cartman scoffed, "Which is why your kingdom is always in such financial struggle." He grinned, noticing the stiffening of Kyle's back at the reminder.

"Finances are not everything," Kyle said calmly, keeping his head held straight. "We have community. That's all that matters to us."

"Never thought I'd hear a Jew say that," he smirked.

"YOU FUCK!" he yelled, snapping his head to the side and going to leap towards him before Stan's strong arms caught him and moved him back. He squirmed, swiping his hand towards the guffawing king. "Lemme punch him, Stanley! As your prince, I _command_ you!"

Stan shook his head. "My Prince, my job is to protect you. I'm _protecting_ you from doing something you'll regret."

"I won't regret it, I'll _savor_ it," he hissed.

"Remember that your _very recently_ betrothed is here," Token raised his brow, looking between him and the silently laughing Kendra. "Might want to make a better impression, Your Highness."

Kyle's face erupted in a blush at the reminder, looking back at the princess holding a gloved hand over her covered mouth and shaking in amusement, watching the elf with glittering cerulean eyes. He slumped in Stan's grip embarrassedly, the ranger unwillingly letting go of the prince as Kyle took a deep breath. "As my guest, I ask that you remain _quiet_ unless you have a question that does not insult my people," he said curtly to the brunette. He sighed and turned back to the princess. "Sorry," he mumbled.

She rolled her eyes amusedly and waved off the notion. He blushed again and cleared his throat, waving for them to follow as he took off once more. "So, what do you do to pass your time, Princess Kendra?" he asked politely, waiting for her to write her note and brushing hair out of his eyes, subtly scratching under his insufferable crown.

He took the paper as she finished, _'Not too much unfortunately. Fatboy over there keeps me under fucking lock and key.'_ Kyle smirked, huffing out a small laugh as he continued, _'I mostly just people watch.'_

"Well, there's a lot of people to be watched around here," he chuckled. "Our kingdom is close. Everyone knows everyone. Before you know it, you'll be in a lot of social circles." Kendra nodded softly, eyes gleaming with the prospect of being able to get out of a palace now and again. "Do you read?" Kyle asked.

She held her hand up and tilted it a few times and he nodded in understanding. "Well, sometimes is better than never," he said softly, waving her to follow his lead as he took the group down the length of the corridor and stepped up to a pair of large double doors. Token and Clyde stepped up and the elf scoffed. "For the love of _God,_ you two! You're as bad as Stanley! I can open my own goddamn doors!" he snapped, slapping Token's hand and pushing open the barrier, muttering to himself as he let the princess into the room, quickly letting go of the heavy wood to smack into Cartman's face.

"Stupid fucking Jew!" Cartman muttered angrily under his hand as he cupped his throbbing nose. Butters sighed tiredly, escorting his king into the room and his jaw dropping.

"Golly," he said in awe, stepping into a massive library with the lot of them, looking at the vast expansion of books lining nearly every square inch of the room.

Kyle looked at Kendra staring with wide eyes and chuckled, "Welcome to my second bedroom," he joked lightly. "A little soon I know, but I think we can get away with it." Stan flicked the back of his head and Kyle looked back and shrugged with a smirk. "You're not moving to a very...exciting city," Kyle winced, the blonde looking back down at him curiously. "We're a pretty quiet bunch, especially around the palace. So in here is really where you're going to find the most to do outside of royal bullshit," he rolled his eyes. "And it's where you'll find the most about our culture."

Kendra smirked under her scarf, jotting down a note and handing it to him with a quirked brow. _'Aside from you, I assume? I'm much more an auditory learner, My dear prince.'_ Kyle blinked and blushed at the title, looking up at her with a shaky smile.

"Of course I'll help you learn," he assured her. "But if I'm unavailable for whatever reason, then in here is where you'll find your answers."

"In all those times when you're laid up sick, right, Kahhllll?" Eric drawled.

He froze and took a calming breath. "I don't get sick nearly as often as I used to," he murmured.

"Oh, Lady McCormick, you should've _seen_ your poor little _fiancé_ ," he taunted, pinching Kyle's cheek. "He'd be so sickly and just couldn't even _move_ ," he pouted. "Taking these spells all the time. Isn't that right, Kahl?"

Kendra looked at him in concern and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah. Well...it's not so bad anymore," he muttered, batting away the king's hands. He crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably. In his youth, they didn't even know if he'd live to see his fifth year. After that, the frailty calmed, but illness took hold of him constantly all the same. He'd spent so much of his childhood laid up in bed, panting and sweating and crying as his body betrayed him, full of shakes and nausea that he could never seem to run from. Over time he'd learned to control it, but it never seemed to fully leave him, often attacking him from nowhere and rendering him helpless for at least a week from such a brutal assault.

"His Highness has taken great strides in his health," Stan narrowed his eyes in warning to the king to keep his distance from his prince, Cartman giving him a returning challenging stare.

A note was pushed under Kyle's face and he read, _'What's wrong?'_

He looked up at the blonde and shrugged. "It's just a problem I've dealt with all my life. Have to be particular about what I eat and keep up with an array of medical potions. It'll knock me on my ass now and again but I'm fine."

She cocked her head, taking the paper back and grabbing a fresh one from Butters' hand, writing and handing it to him with a shrug. _'Well, I make a mean batch of soup for when that happens.'_ Kyle looked up and gave her a soft smile, her eyes returning the expression. The elf felt some calmness wash over him. This wasn't exactly how he'd pictured it'd go with his betrothed, but it could be _so_ much worse. He could be dealing with a female _Cartman_ of all people, so he'd just have to find his silver lining with what he could.

He sighed, "Enough about that. Is there any place in particular you'd like to see?"

She looked up for a moment thoughtfully before scribing her answer, handing it to him with a wince. _'Could I see my room? My travels have left me pretty exhausted.'_

He blushed, "Sorry, I didn't even _think_ to ask you about-" he stopped as she held up her hand and grabbed the note again.

' _Don't be. I didn't realize until just this moment how tired I am.'_

He nodded, "Yeah, I'll show you to your room."

"No, Kahl, _I'll_ take her since I know where she'll be staying. I need to have a talk with the princess," Eric drawled.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "I think we should let her decide-"

"No," he cut him off. "Besides, how do I know you won't cast some dark elven spell to make her strip naked for you?"

Kyle's face fell into a paled horror before it was replaced with an inexplicable fury. "How _dare you_!" he shouted, making his approach towards him before Token and Stan grabbed around his waist. He mindlessly shouted gibberish as they tried to keep the small elf under control, begging for him to calm himself down. Kendra watched him for a moment before turning to scowl viciously at the laughing king. She growled under her breath, quickly scribbling another note and walking to the side of the redhead. She tapped his head to get his attention, watching as the boy shot his face up towards her, smiling at him with her eyes as she'd learned to do so well throughout the years. He simmered, the larger boys letting him go, keeping close to him to intercept if yet again needed. Kendra handed him the letter, clasping his hand and patting it gently before turning to walk out with the Wizard King, Butters following quickly behind.

Kyle watched after them and blinked, Kendra turning and taking another quick glimpse at him before letting her attention fall back forward as they left the library, Cartman still laughing about the 'weak elf' all the way. He took a deep breath, turning down to the note and cocking his head. _'At least we know we have one thing in common: We both_ _ **hate**_ _that fat sack of shit. At least once he leaves, we'll both be free to ignore what he says. Given that's rather hard considering his gigantic fucking mouth, but the attempt can at least be made.'_ Kyle snorted, shaking his head as he continued scanning along the beautifully scripted writing. _'By the way, are you always so easy to blush? Or is that just for me?'_ Kyle gulped, the smile falling and his face reddening yet again. Stan, Clyde, and Token read over his shoulder, looking and smirking at the young elf's heated coloring.

"It's a fair question," Clyde teased.

"I don't think I've _ever_ seen you get red so easily," Token continued.

He looked at them angrily, "Watch it, or I'll have your heads." They all looked at him with wry expressions and he slumped. "Fine. I'll kick your shins," he huffed as they softly laughed. He sighed and shook his head, folding the note and sticking it into the front of his robe. "Guys, I really don't think this is going to work."

"You seem to like her, though," Token observed. "And she seems to like you. I think you'll make a fine match."

"How am I supposed to rule a kingdom with someone who can't speak?" he asked quietly. " _Especially_ someone who has to learn of our ways from the ground up?"

Stan patted his shoulder lightly and took a deep breath. "I'm...sure she'll do fine, My Prince," he said quietly. The two of them looked at each other, sadness echoing in their eyes before they had to break away from the other's stare.

Kyle slowly reached up and placed his hand atop Stan's, his fingers lightly curling around his ranger's and nodding, looking at the door and letting out a long breath through his nose. "We can only hope."


	6. We Have Everything to Lose

Kenny watched with brimming eyes, anger and frustration bubbling through them as Cartman paced about his room and looked at the arching ceiling thoughtfully. "Aren't you leaving yet? Don't you have a fucking kingdom to go run into the ground?" he demanded impatiently.

Eric looked at him and narrowed his gaze at the insinuation. "Not until I'm _sure_ we have a full understanding, Kinny," he hissed. Kenny rolled his eyes, looking around at the ornate room the elves had set him within, or at least, ornate by elven standards. Plants curled up the walls, the fresh scent of pine lingered thickly in a comforting aroma. The bed he was seated upon was nice and plush, filled with feathers that dipped gently under his weight. Flowers bloomed along the headboard in arrays of purple and blue; a promise for good dreams upon his stay. The boy sighed, scratching his long hair and shaking his head.

"I know what you want," he finally said.

"And just _how_ are you going to get it?" he asked expectantly with raised, thick brows.

He glanced at him through thick lashes, letting out a hefty breath through his nose. "By earning Kyle's trust."

He nodded curtly. "Shouldn't be hard. That Jew will probably trust anyone. Their entire race is built on 'loving your neighbor' or whatever 'holier-than-thou-art' bullshit they're so interested in selling to the rest of us that they are." He shook his head in disgust. Liars. Every last one of the elven lying bastards were nothing but a scourge to the rest of the lands. There was a reason humans lived in fear of them, watching them waving their hands and throwing glowing trees, putting out fires by lifting water from the lakes themselves. They were _dangerous_. No dangerous race would be so peace-loving with such an arsenal held right within their dirtied fingertips.

Cartman had figured them out the moment he'd met Kyle at the tender age of four, watching as he showed him in excitement the first spell he'd learned. The two of them sat in the courtyard of Kupa Keep, Kyle holding up his small hand and wriggling fingers still tinted with baby fat. _'Watch this,'_ he'd proclaimed proudly. Eric had backed up in fright as the Jew's face became knit in concentration, suddenly relaxing as his hand began to glow a bright green. The redhead had laughed quietly at his reaction as he knelt onto the ground, his oversized robes bunching in coils around him. The human had stared as the glowing palm was placed onto a patch of dirt, eyes widening at sprouts of grass popping up under and around the hand. Kyle had smiled at him as he took his hand off from the lush, gleaming grass. _'Isn't that neat?'_ he'd asked innocently, as though he were unaware of the evil magics working its way through his body. It was unnatural. It was horrifying. Cartman had called him a witch and Kyle had punched him in the stomach and began yelling at him, standing over his curled body, those evil magic-wielding palms flailing around in frustration. Eric couldn't remember the words, only the pure fury of the Drow, the absolute fear curling in his own stomach and wondering if he would use that devil magic against him and kill him right then and there. The words were long faded from his memory, but his plan was still clear: The elves _had_ to be stopped.

"Well that's what _good_ people do, they trust one another without needing fucking payment to cement it," Ken said sharply, snapping him out of his angered reminiscing. The blonde's tensed shoulders dropped and he shifted uncomfortably atop his down quilt, finger tracing mindlessly along the stitches of a fern pattern placed into the fabric. "Cartman...the elves are kind," he mumbled. The brunette stopped his pacing and tilted his head in disbelief. "Kyle doesn't seem to be the type to hurt someone, he seems nice. Why do you want to hurt him?"

The king rolled his eyes, "Not just _him_. Kinny, Kupa Keep is losing power. The only way to get it back is with my plans. And that scrawny little fuck just happens to be the stepping stone!"

"What about the fucking marriage?" Ken demanded. "That should heighten the authority just fine if we can get elves to begin coming into the land! Money will start flowing, the expansion of the army will be _massive_. You're going to have _magic_ at your beck and call to assist in conflict! How can you not see the benefits that _you yourself_ promised the poor king and queen?!"

He let out a dramatic shudder, his skin crawling under his heavily adorned robes. "I don't want _any_ elvish piece of shit crossing my borders," he hissed. "Kupa Keep is a land of humans, and I want Zaron _itself_ to be that way. It'd be different if they'd relocate to their own countries, but this faction refuses to leave!"

Kenny narrowed his eyes, "They were in Zaron _first_ , Fatass. If anything, _we_ should be the ones who-"

Cartman held up an angry hand, a hot breath seeping through his nostrils. He wasn't about to be told to leave what he'd worked so hard and patiently to grab a hold of. "You are not here to _argue_. You are here to get into Kahl's good graces. May I remind you of what brought you here?"

Kenny closed his eyes, a dry gulp receding down his slim throat. He knew exactly what brought him here. It was the same thing that placed him into dresses at the age of five, that convinced him to join the royal rankings as an 'adopted daughter' by Cartman's fiendish little mind. He shuddered, unbelieving that he'd been this monster's puppet for so many years. He let out a trembling breath, a joyous brunette girl passing through his mind, calling his name and tripping over thin, clumsy legs as she ran to hug him, kissing his cheek as he managed to scrounge up the money to buy her a small doll. She was ripping his heart to pieces. "How do I know my sister is safe?" he asked lowly.

"What?"

He looked back at him, an icy stare nearly penetrating the glutton. They watched each other in silence, Cartman nearly recoiling at the rare angered expression before remembering how many cards he held, watching as Kenny struggled to fish his own out of the deck. "How do I know you're staying true to your word and keeping Karen _safe_?" he repeated, getting to his feet and hovering over the king even from across the room. "How do I know that I'm not here following your ridiculous plans while she's starving or...or being sold to men?" he bit, frustrated and worried tears beading along his lashes.

The king rolled his eyes in annoyance, "My word is-"

"Shit," Kenny finished bitterly. "I want better than your fucking word, considering you just made a treaty with a kingdom that you have no intention of following through with!"

He crossed his arms and groaned impatiently, shaking his head. "Fine. Just _what_ do you propose? Keep in mind sending her here is _not_ an option," he added dryly.

He let out a growl through his throat, looking down in thought. "Tweek," he said softly.

"What about him?" he blinked confusedly.

"I want _Tweek_ to be her watcher," he demanded, snapping those dangerous eyes back up to the king. "He doesn't lie. I want weekly reports, from _him,_ informing me of her status."

"Fine, I'll-"

"I'm not fucking done," he snapped, watching those amber eyes glowing with warning but not feeling the slightest bit of fear of a retaliation. His plans all went to shit without Kenny, after all. "He's to be _closely_ involved with her, to the point where he communicates with her," he ordered. "And in each letter, I want him to tell me something that Karen told him that only _she_ would know about between us to ensure the authenticity of the words. Do you fucking understand me? Or should I write it down since you can't seem to keep a simple thought in that fat head of yours before you beat it down for more plans against the fucking Drows?"

Cartman shook his head slowly, shoulders heaving with an angry breath. "Look, you better _damn_ well remember who your king is, Po'Boy."

He cocked his brow superiorly. "You pretty much sold me to the elves, Fatass. King _Gerald_ is my king now. You heard the prince: You're nothing but a _guest_ ," he drawled, lips hitching in a smirk as Cartman fumed, a low growl escaping his throat. "They don't _own_ people here," he repeated the young redhead with a casual shrug, flipping his long hair back behind him. "Guess you're not used to being put in your place, huh, Fatboy?"

The brunette stalked over to him and shoved him back onto the bed, glaring as Kenny scrambled up and returned the expression. "Listen and listen _good_ , Kinny," he seethed. "You'll get your reports from Tweek, but I expect reports from _you_ on a weekly basis as well, am I clear?"

He rolled his eyes, "Like _what_? 'Kyle and I went to the fucking market'?"

"Yes!" he snapped. "You have six months of courting before a wedding is planned. I want to make damn well _sure_ that you're using your time wisely. Don't make me just show up for a random inspection, Kinny," he warned. They continued staring each other down until the king sighed and rubbed his temple tiredly. "I'm going back home. I can't stay here in their... _dungeon_ any longer," he shuddered.

Ken scoffed, "It's nicer than Kupa Keep. At least _they_ don't have bars on the windows."

"That's only for your room," he sneered, turning on his heel and heading towards the door. He took another look back at the blonde and shook his head. "Don't fuck up, Kinny."

The blonde just stared with those deadly blues as the king huffed and headed out the door, slamming it closed behind him. Kenny slumped tiredly, looking around once more at the nature spawning throughout the quarters and letting out a tired sigh. He plopped down onto the bed, letting his eyes slip closed and allowing himself to wander in the voice of Karen calling his name once more, letting the grip around his heart tighten all over again.

* * *

Kyle shifted uncomfortably at the table, letting his spoon sift through the soup steaming from his bowl and glancing around at his family quietly eating. He glanced to the empty chair now set beside him and sighed tiredly. "So...where the fuck is Kendra?" he asked blandly.

"She eats in her room," Sheila replied, casually shifting through correspondences beside her.

The redhead blinked, raising his brow and looking off to the adjacent room, seeing Stan, Token, Clyde, Butters, and Craig sitting and eating together bantering quietly and letting out a long breath. He bit his lip and tapped the spoon on the side of the dish, stealing a glance at Ike who was staring back. The Canadian shot him a knowing look, subtly raising his free hand and rolling it to convince him to move along with whatever questions he was wondering. The prince took a spoonful of the squash soup and took a bite to stall for a few moments, letting the velvet texture swirl around his mouth, the spices overtake his senses. He looked back at his mother and cleared his throat. "Um...shouldn't she...eat with us?" he asked.

"She's a very private lady," Sheila retorted without batting an eye, her finger moving down lines of text as she worked.

He narrowed his eyes, "Okay, but if she's supposed to be becoming _family_ , then shouldn't she-"

"Kyle," Gerald interjected, looking at him with a sympathetic, tired glance. "Maybe one day she'll be comfortable enough. Right now she's tired and doesn't know where she is. There's nothing wrong with her being a little to herself."

Kyle's shoulders slumped and he brushed his hair back, scratching at the space where his crown had resided before he'd finally convinced his mother to let him take it off with Eric departing. He couldn't say that watching that carriage drive off didn't give him a certain sense of elation, especially after the initial terror of his mother inviting the king to stay and visit for a couple of days. According to the Wizard King, he had 'business to attend to, but couldn't thank her enough for the offer'. Kyle rolled his eyes. Business. Right. More like 'I hate the elves and I'll be damned if I stay in their treehouse'. He looked up at his focused mother, darting eyes between his father and brother who both wore looks warning him to tread cautiously.

"Ma?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Bubbeleh?"

He licked over his lips and took a deep breath. "Did you...meet Kendra before setting me up with her?"

She paused, finally raising her eyes and meeting her son's miserable gaze. "No," she said softly. "Your father and I went on word alone. We'd heard from many sources of how kind and generous she was, and Liane called her beautiful all the time. We figured that it was good enough."

"So...you didn't _know_ that she can't talk?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes in the slightest.

Sheila shifted and cleared her throat, "No, Bubbie. We heard she was quiet. Not mute."

He took a steadying breath, drumming his fingers against his thigh. "How do you expect this to work?" he demanded. "How do you expect the kingdom to be all right with their queen passing notes?"

She narrowed her eyes, "Kyle, she-"

"Because," he interrupted, rage building quicker than he could seem to dismantle. "I feel as though were _I_ a member of the kingdom who needed a solution to my problem, fucking _reading_ about it wouldn't help. That's our thing, right? We don't do _written_ decrees? Because better to hear straight from our mouths?"

She scowled, "The manner doesn't _matter_ , Kyle. What matters is the message."

"According to _you_ , the manner _does_ matter!" he snapped. "Otherwise I wouldn't of had to bow and shit to this girl that I don't even know like _she's_ my fucking soulmate!"

Sheila rapped her fist against the table, trying to force a calming breath down her throat. "Whether or not she's your soulmate doesn't matter anymore, Kyle. You will be courting her whether you want to or not. This marriage is _happening_ ," she said dangerously. "I suggest you come to peace with it as quickly as possible, because how you feel will not change the matter."

"Of course it won't," he spat. "Because what do _you_ care? You got your happiness!" he gestured to his dad who watched his son guiltily. "And I'm sure when Ike comes of age, he'll get to go through a human's process of finding his soulmate, right?"

"We're not _talking_ about Ike," she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes, "Of course not. Because you _know_ I'm right! Everyone else in our family, everyone else in our fucking _history_ has come out of their season with happiness! For the people or whatever, I _know_ , but how happy are the people going to be when they realize that not only am I bringing a fucking _human_ into our kingdom, but one who can't even command the simple art of _speaking_?" He stopped and his shoulders slumped, looking at his soup blankly. "They're going to hate me, Ma," he said quietly, voice cracking.

She watched him for a moment, Gerald and Ike looking at each other and their family members in worry. The group in the room beside them stopped their eating and talking, looking out the door to observe the commotion. The queen took a deep breath and shook her head. "Kyle, the Drows would never hate you. Larnion has loved you since you were a child."

"I didn't bring them a _poison_ ," he said bitterly.

"The princess is not a poison!" she said, mouth gaping a bit at her son's attitude. "She's a lovely-"

He waved his hands to stop her. "She herself seems...nice," he conceded. "But you've always told me there's two fucking sides: The person and the fucking sovereign," he reminded her angrily. "Our kingdom hasn't _had me_ as their sovereign, they like me as a person who just _happens_ to be in the royal fucking family," he rolled his eyes. "This could change all of that. She could bring our family name crashing into the fucking ground, Ma, regardless of how 'lovely' you believe she is."

She folded her hands, sitting tall in her chair and staring sternly at her son. "Then it's _your_ job to change that."

Angry emeralds sparked and a furious breath whisked through his teeth. "Yeah. I'll just dismantle racism with one fell fucking swoop, Mother. Seems doable."

"You're going to be a king. It's your _job_ to handle discourse within the people such as that," she reminded him firmly. He growled, shoving away from the table and throwing his ivory cloth napkin upon his lap onto the wooden surface. She glared, "You did not ask to be excused, young man!"

He narrowed his eyes, the both of them fighting for control over the matter, and the both of them knowing they were going to lose. "I didn't ask for a _wife_ either," he reminded her sharply, turning on his heel without listening to her angry retort and storming out of the dining hall, shoving open the door and making way into the corridor. He ignored various servants and guards greeting him, quickly picking up the pace and nearly sprinting to get to his room, the frustration within him trying so valiantly to hit its peak. He couldn't do this. He just couldn't _handle this_.

He made way through the twisting halls and came to his door, throwing it open and storming up his steps, his heavy boots echoing within the stairwell. He hopped up onto the landing, ripping off his silken coat and angrily throwing it onto the ground, stripping as he made way to his bed and carelessly tossing the ceremonious garments aside. He finally got himself out of the clothing, making way to his destination and throwing himself onto the plush surface. He sniffled, grabbing his sheets and quilt and dragging them over himself, slamming his face down into his pillow and shaking his head.

This was awful. Everything about this was absolutely abhorrent to the young elven prince. He didn't _ask_ for this. He'd behaved as he was supposed to throughout the years, had patiently waited for his time to get the happily ever after that he was _promised_ throughout his entire life. And all it took was a single conversation with the _enemy_ to make all his dreams disappear. He let out a choked sob, trying to shake himself out of it as his emotions swelled under the linen cocoon.

A knock from the side of his stairwell perked his sharp ears. "My Prince?" that familiar voice called. He looked over with tear-glossed eyes to see Stan's head popping through the landing. "Are you all right?" the ranger asked, heart lurching seeing his prince so distraught.

Kyle bit his lip, sniffling and turning his eyes back to his pillow. "No," he croaked. "This isn't fair, Stan. This isn't fucking _fair_."

"I know," he said pitiably, making way up into the room and sitting on the bed beside him, comfortingly rubbing his covered back.

"We were _fine_ just having the humans in their own place and us staying here," he protested. "This union isn't going to do _shit_. It's just going to be me and this girl and everyone calling us the fucking interracial monarchy," he slammed his face back into his pillow and sniffed. "The other elven kingdoms will hate me for who I marry. The _human_ kingdoms will hate me for who I am. I can't _win_ , Stan."

The noirette bit his lip, continuing to gently rub his fingertips along the tensed muscle of the prince's back. "I don't know what to say, My Prince," he finally breathed out quietly. "Nothing I can say will make this situation better." The redhead looked back at him and blinked back another row of tears trying to descend, sitting himself up and letting the quilt slide down his bared chest. He reached up and grasped Stan's face, planting their lips together desperately. Stan's eyes fluttered and he leaned in before duty slammed into him and he backed up, panting lightly. "My Prince...Kyle," he breathed. "We can't-"

"I'm your prince," he reminded him, curling his fingers along the shoulder pad of his breastplate. "I'm not _asking_."

Stan gulped, eyes flittering nervously to the stairwell. "You're engaged, Kyle," he whispered.

"Engaged to a girl I don't _know_ ," he said bitterly. "You don't know what to say, so I'm telling you what to _do_ ," he emphasized, voice tinging in desperation hiding under his authoritative tone. "Stan," he whispered. "Please...don't let me lose everything in one day," he begged. _"Please,"_ he leaned up and kissed him slowly, wrapping his arms around his neck. Stan let out a long, shaking breath against his lips, genially allowing himself to sink into the kiss, hands lightly trailing over Kyle's hips and waist. Kyle wormed out of his covering, pressing his naked body flush against him, their breathing increasing as Stan slowly began to lead him once more onto his back, their fingers tracing along the other with precision.

They were the cartographers of one another, only each other knowing the ins and outs of their bodies, allowing them to become the masters of the helm. Tongues began to trace over necks and chests, nails scraping against one another and quiet sounds breaking through tender, swollen lips. Their one manner of stability, the only people they'd ever trusted was each other; And no marriage was going to take that from them.


	7. An Air of Compromise

Morning sunlight mottled by the thick leaves of trees dancing outside his window shone onto his face, crinkled from a restless sleep. A knock upon his stairwell hit his ears and he groaned, shoving himself down into his covers and hiding from the outside world. "Kyle, get up," his mother's voice said sternly.

"No," he muttered, turning around and concealing himself further within his linens. She watched him for a moment, feeling the exhaustion and misery beaming off of her eldest son and taking a deep breath. She bit her lip and walked over to his bed, grabbing the edge of his quilt and revealing his mussed hair, matted and tangled from his tossing sleep. "Noooo," he whined, fighting to get the covers back.

"You have to wake up," she said firmly. He groaned, creaking an eye open and looking up at her disinterestedly.

"Why? Arranging another marriage? Am I getting a harem?"

She scowled, "Not funny, young man. Come on," she tapped his head and walked over towards his cherrywood armoire. He sighed exhaustively, shakily sitting himself up and rubbing his scalp, watching her confusedly as she sifted through his clothes.

"Can I help you?" he asked bitterly.

She shook her head to herself, remembering how the redhead was in his youth. Rebellious to a point, but always buckling when the threat of her anger was on the table. That didn't seem to be the case in this instance, and the part of her that'd kept her up all the night before knew she couldn't exactly blame him. But she was queen first and doting mother second, it was the truth that _all_ of their family held within themselves. "You need to go see Kendra," she replied smoothly, grabbing an outfit with robes the color of sapphire and bringing it over to him, leaning over to set a paper on the table beside him.

"Why?" he narrowed his eyes, scratching at his disastrous hair.

She lied the outfit on his bed and crossed her arms, "Because this is her first full day in a new land and she needs your help."

"Have fucking _Token_ or someone help her. I'm not interested," he said firmly, crossing his arms in a pout. He flinched subtly as her eye twitched, gulping down his fears and staying as strong as he could muster, knowing that he was more than on the losing end.

Sheila let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing her temple and looking at her stubborn son. "Bubbie," she forced herself to say calmly, sitting on the bed next to him. "Would you be so cruel if she were just a guest?"

"If she was just a guest she'd _leave_ ," he said dryly. "But apparently I have a whole fucking lifetime to get to know her. Why start so early?"

The queen frowned, "Because you're a better person than that. Imagine how she feels, Kyle. Her home is gone. She's immersed in a culture where she can't understand things as simple as our trading customs. She's a human living in a land of magics that she can never develop...She's probably scared," she added quietly.

Kyle took a deep breath and shifted, hiding the wince of uncomfortableness from his and Stan's activities of the night before. "I'm sure she's fine," he muttered.

She paused, folding her hands on her lap and watching her son tiredly. "Do you remember when we found Ike?" she asked quietly. Kyle cocked his brow and she continued, "You were only five, but I'm sure you do." He shrugged and she gave him a small smile. "Do you remember how the four of us traveled to Canada to work an official adoption for him? And myself and your father were with him for a few days while you were out in their land?"

He shrunk down and twisted his lips, "A little."

She smiled, "Remember how afraid you were? Being with humans and not even knowing the correct way to ask for food? How Stanley had to hold your hand the entire time because you were so frightened?"

"That's _different_ , Ma," he protested. "I was _five_. Things are different with age."

The queen nodded, "That's right. They're _worse._ " Kyle blinked and she shrugged, "When you were such a little elf, if you did something... _foolish_ or out of custom, the humans laughed it off. You were tiny, you didn't know any better," she shrugged. "She doesn't _have_ that excuse. And with the future as it is with her being a queen, she can't afford those kinds of mistakes," she winced. "Anything she does that is negative will be used against her. You were scared just to visit, Kyle. She's scared for her life."

The prince looked down guiltily, "I still don't like this, Mom."

"I know, Bubbie, I know," she said sympathetically, maternally combing her fingers through his hair. "But...even though this all seems against you, maybe it can be better than you believe." He looked up at her wryly and she shrugged. "Maybe you can get a good friend out of this if anything. I've spoken to that...Craig boy that guards her," she shuddered and Kyle snorted softly. Craig was the definition of his mother's greatest fears for her children, always thanking every star that her boys hadn't grown into disrespectful assholes like the rogue. At least, not to the point they showed that side outside of the palace walls. "She apparently has the same attitude that you do," she looked at him in an unamused tone.

"Sure you want another of that in the family?" he challenged.

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "I love you despite your flaws," she teased. "Learn to do the same for her," she advised. Kyle sighed and she patted his shoulder. "She's in the library," she said quietly, getting to her feet. "I'll have someone bring you your breakfast in there."

Kyle watched after her, biting his lip. "Ma?" he called as she placed her hand on the stair railing. She looked back curiously and he gulped. "Ma, what if we don't get along?"

She smirked knowingly. "Considering how she commented on how you blush for her, I doubt that'll be an issue, Kyle."

His words caught and he blinked rapidly, looking to see the note from the day before now set on his bedside table. "Stop going through my things!" he shouted embarrassedly.

The woman chuckled, "That's what mothers do," she said lovingly before descending down the way. The prince twisted his lips and sighed, eyes hitting the note and gulping. He slowly made way out of his bed, waiting for the door to close before beginning to strip out of his loose nightwear, putting on the outfit his mother had picked with a grimace. Eighteen and still being dictated on what to wear. He shook his head as he struggled to work his pants up his hips, looking at his ceiling as he did so. Kendra may have been scared, but he certainly wasn't feeling much better regarding the whole arrangement.

He sighed, letting his eyes slip closed. Day one. Here we go.

* * *

The young prince found her sitting at a table, staring confusedly at a book and cocking her head. Her blue eyes squinted, a hand coming up to flail in frustration. He hitched his brow, looking back behind him at a sleepy Stan and smiling softly. "You can go get breakfast, Stan."

"I'm fine," he yawned.

He rolled his eyes. "Bullshit. Go get some food. We'll be fine, Craig's here," he jerked his head to the rogue sitting in boredom across the room with Butters rambling beside him.

"Kyle, I-" he stopped as the prince crossed his arms, flinching automatically as the clear influence of his mother struck throughout the pose. "Uh, okay," he winced. "I'll grab some and come back."

He snorted and shook his head, patting his ranger's arm and watching him turn to walk off. He took a deep breath and turned his head, gulping as he made his way over to the distracted princess. He cocked his head at the book she was looking through, blinking confusedly. "Princess?" he asked, watching her head shoot up in shock at the intrusion before she relaxed and waved to him. He inwardly sighed in relief. Thank _god_ she wasn't into the fucking formalities. Bowing to each other every day would get old and _fast_.

He made way and sat beside her, clearing his throat. "You uh...you _realize_ you picked up a book written in Elvish...right?" he winced.

She quickly drew him up a note and slid it towards him. _'No, really? I hadn't noticed.'_

He looked up to see her staring at him with a taunting smirk lingering under her sheer eggplant scarf. Kyle scoffed, "Don't be an asshole about it."

' _Lead by example.'_

Kyle raised his brow before snorting and rolling his eyes. "Why the hell did you get an Elvish book? I _doubt_ you can read it unless you've been hiding shit," he cocked his head. He watched her beginning to write, jumping as someone slid a plate and goblet into his arm. He looked to see a servant bowing to him and smiled, "Thank you." The elf nodded with a grin, turning and heading back out the library. Kyle grabbed a piece of thin, dried bread, snapping off a small bit and nibbling as Kendra continued to scribe.

She finally pushed it over towards him, _'I figured that one in your native language would be a bit more culture teaching? I went on the assumption there'd be like...translations. Obviously you elves did not predict the future and my needs and I am insulted.'_

Kyle glanced at her silent laughter, chuckling himself. "You're kind of unprecedented for us," he smirked. "What book did you even grab?" She shrugged and handed it to him, watching him flip to the cover and raise his brow. "Uh. This one won't help you learn our culture...Not the current anyway," he blushed and cleared his throat. "It's about ancient mating rituals of our people. I didn't even know we _had_ this," he said, flipping through and staring blankly.

He looked as a paper pushed against him, _'I'd say I chose right if that's the case.'_ She wriggled her brows and he blushed deeper, slamming the book closed and shoving it away.

"That's not gonna teach you a damn thing," he said dryly. "English, Elvish, or otherwise."

' _Nothing wrong with expanding knowledge in_ _ **all**_ _areas, My Prince.'_

He blinked, clearing his throat once more and taking a long sip of his coffee to stall for a few moments as Kendra watched him amusedly with her chin propped in her palm. "While I'm not _denying_ that," he finally started, "That was all long before our people evolved to find our soulmates. It's...garbage at this point," he shrugged. "Forgotten crap about outdated theories of how to find someone."

' _I'm almost upset there weren't any pictures if it revolves around mating,'_ she teased.

He cocked his brow, popping a berry into his mouth. "Aren't you supposed to be like...ladylike?" he said dryly.

The prince leaned back as she wrote, watching her hand moving flowingly over the parchment, the swift, smooth motion she used to re-dip her quill time and again. He shook himself out of the trance as the paper slid towards him. _'Let's be real here, Kyle. If we're stuck together the rest of our lives, may as well not pretend to be someone we're not.'_

Kyle looked up at her and she shrugged. He smirked a bit and nodded. "Yeah. Makes sense. May as well warn you then, you'll never win an argument with me," he said casually, chewing on another berry.

' _Ah, the Jersian flows strong then, I assume?'_

He twisted his lips and glared at her slightly as she tried not to burst out laughing. "While that's not _wrong_ , I can only assume that fat bastard told you how _evil_ my mother is, right?" She nodded, but waved off the notion.

' _I know she's not evil. Fat-tits just doesn't like anyone who doesn't bow to his every whim.'_

"Isn't that the truth," he scoffed. "When I first met him when we were like, four or some shit, he kicked me in the leg to make me kneel for him," he rolled his eyes.

She thought for a moment before smiling and handing him her response. _'I have to say, it's kind of refreshing to see royalty that can open doors for themselves.'_

Kyle glanced at her watching him with that smile and shrugged awkwardly. "We elves don't particularly like to be coddled. Or at least...I don't," he winced. "I have enough issues with being brought food and whatnot," he waved towards his prepared plate.

' _Then why have servants?'_

"Honestly? Necessity," he shrugged. "Not for us, but for them." She cocked her head and he shifted a bit in his seat. "So you probably saw some of the kingdom riding through, right?" She nodded slowly. "You can tell we're not quite as... _glamorous_ as Kupa Keep," he rolled his eyes. "Well, with a lack of glamor comes a lack of work. So we employ civilians, but, they're happy to do so," he shrugged. "We pay them well, we treat them like people. The only ones who 'quit' do so unwillingly out of sickness or age," he said softly. "It's the same with our guards. We each have one personal guard to protect the family individually, but all the ones you saw when we met are for the people, not us."

Kendra blinked a few times, slowly writing out her reply as Kyle sipped at his coffee, smacking his lips in thought. A part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was _always_ so talkative and just never noticed until paired with someone who couldn't speak back. He felt like he was on a goddamn speech rampage as he so often fell into. He tried not to cringe in embarrassment as she continued writing, the soft scribbles filling the void air. _'I wish Kupa Keep had been so kind. The servants there are treated so horribly, and I had so little say in it that nothing could be done.'_

They met stares, Kyle noticing a helplessness lingering in her eyes and watching her concernedly. "Well, now you know we're not all like Fatass," he said quietly. "Regardless of where you stand royally, you _always_ have a say. My little brother is only twelve and even he has the ability to make executive decisions. We decide things as a family...Usually," he murmured as an afterthought.

' _The exception is the two of us, right?'_

He nodded and coughed lightly. "Did...did _you_ know this was happening before you came?" She nodded.

' _Did you not?'_

"I learned about ten minutes before I met you," he shrugged.

She winced guiltily. _'I'm so sorry. I at least had two weeks to get used to the idea. You handled it pretty well for shock news.'_

He smiled bashfully, "You don't know the _half_ of it...But that's really not important anymore," he sighed. He flickered his eyes back into hers and hitched his brow. "So...you're not blood related to that fat fuck?" She shook her head. "Then how did you come into any sort of power?" She rubbed the back of her neck, looking down embarrassedly and he snapped himself into a guilted alert. "Hey, hey, if you don't want to talk about it you don't have to," he assured her. "Sorry. I didn't know it was a sensitive subject."

She hesitated for a moment before drafting her reply, _'Maybe one day I'll tell you. It's not that I don't trust you. I just don't like to talk about it.'_

"I understand," he said. "Sorry," he repeated with a wince. She smiled at him and shook her head, patting his arm lightly. She paused, looking past him and quirking her brow before scribbling another note.

' _Any reason why your ranger keeps glaring at me?'_

Kyle blinked, whipping around and seeing Stan watching them from a distance, the noirette snapping out of his anger as his prince's eyes hit his own. Kyle glared back, waving him away and Stan took a deep breath, nodding and heading to sit with Craig and Butters. He turned back to see Kendra blinking at him in confusion. "Stan is...my best friend," he said slowly. "He's extremely protective of me. He always has been. It's nothing against you personally," he promised. "He's just skeptical of anyone who he doesn't know being close to me."

She smirked sadly, _'I'm thinking he probably needs to get used to me.'_

He shrugged, "He will. It'll take time, but he will."

' _It must be nice having someone so close to you. The closest I have is Paladin Butters, and he annoys the ever loving shit out of me. Ever wanted to bash someone's head against the wall? Because with him, I guarantee you'll get to that point.'_ she looked at him dryly.

Kyle snorted and nodded, "He _does_ seem to be a bit much."

' _This time_ _ **you**_ _don't know the half of it, My dear prince,'_ she teased.

He smiled sheepishly, taking another bite of his breakfast. He grabbed a strawberry, plump and gleaming as red as a sailor's night and held it towards her. "Want one?"

She hesitated for a moment, glancing between the fruit and Kyle's innocent expression. Shakily, she grasped the fruit and nodded in thanks. She slid it under her scarf and took a bite, relishing in the sweet explosion of flavor dancing along her palate. A happy, content sigh escaped her lips as she brought her hand down and chewed, Kyle watching her with a tilted head. She looked towards him, returning the expression and he cleared his throat. "Can I ask a...maybe kind of...personal...question?" he winced.

She quickly slid him a note, her hand kept on the bottom of the page. _'I will_ _ **not**_ _tell you my breast size, Your Highness.'_

She watched giddily as Kyle's face erupted as red as his strawberries, mouth fumbling as he struggled for response. "I wasn't going to ask you that!" he squeaked, wanting to sink into the floor and bury himself in the dirt.

Kendra smiled, taking her hand off the bottom and revealing another tiny note. _'I'm only teasing. Of course you can.'_

He sputtered a bit before scoffing and crossing his arms, glaring away from her. "Not funny," he muttered as she shook in laughter. He rolled his eyes and looked back as she tried to compose herself. "So...why the scarf?" he asked softly. She hitched her brow and he shrugged. "I'm just curious why you wear it, that's all."

The princess paused, looking at her paper in thought. She knew _exactly_ why. It was to hide the angular, broad shape of her chin. To cover stubborn stubble that had began sprouting at the tender age of fifteen. A slim, lanky figure and fake breasts could only do so much, some assets just had to be kept secretly hidden. He glanced to see Kyle waiting patiently and let her quill take a mind of its own, knowing that dwelling on reasons could spell disaster.

Kyle looked down as the parchment was placed in front of him. _'Why showcase something that's not of use? I'm not the Fatass, I don't wear every useless thing I own on my sleeve as a bragging right. People tend to stare at my mouth when they want an answer and I can't give them that, so the scarf makes them remember. Besides, I'm a better listener anyway and would rather they focus on that.'_

Kyle blinked slowly, raising his eyes to meet the princess' worried stare and offering her a smile. "Well, that works out nicely. I'm shit at listening and tend to just rant and yell at people," he chuckled.

She smiled back in relief, _'So, we have some balance. That's always a good thing for a kingdom.'_

He nodded in agreement, pushing his plate of food between the both of them and gesturing for her to partake with him. "And for people just in general," he added. "I'm sure we can find some kind of system down the way," he shrugged.

She smiled, popping another strawberry under her scarf and handing him another paper, happily watching the smile spread warmly on his face. _'We'll make it work.'_


	8. Sworn to You

Green eyes scanned listlessly over the text in front of him, a long sigh escaping his throat. Kyle smacked his lips in boredom, stifling a yawn as his finger mindlessly scraped along the side of the tome before him. He'd almost prefer being forced to interact with the princess above his studies. Almost.

He glanced to beside him, seeing Stan looking about as enthralled in the day's activities as himself as he polished his broadsword. Sliding down the blade and hitting the hilt, the golden handle gleamed in his eye. Twisted vine embossing twirled along, providing better grip for the ranger in the unlikely event he'd need to use it to protect his prince. The Drow's lips curled in the slightest, remembering when Stan had graduated to that particular sword at the age of twelve. He'd been nearly pushed over by the new weight compared to his training weapon, arms just barely long enough to be able to press it back into its sheath. When he walked, the tip of the container smacked against the ground with every step. Kyle had teased him countless times about how useless he would have been as a rogue for his loud entrances.

He smiled in fond remembrance, seeing twelve year old Stan with his helmet too big and his chest armor loosely over his torso, only the shoulder pads keeping it in place. He'd graduated from his training with flying colors and an undying devotedness to the royal family. Clyde and Token had passed their own exams weeks after him, the both of them watching in jealousy as he had taken the Guard's Pledge. Kyle had almost felt bad for him, after selecting him specifically to be his personal protection, Stan's training increased tenfold. The Captain of the Guard had always been rough on him, pushing the human to his limits as a personal vendetta to prove that non-Drows had no place in their army. Stan never stopped, though. He and Kyle talked about the fun they'd have always being together, how they wouldn't get bored like Kyle did with the stick in the mud guard he'd had until then and Stan being stuck in the line of duty outside the palace walls.

He recalled the smile on the noirette's face as he kneeled to accept his title, unable to keep his excitement bottled within as they were supposed to. Rangers were supposed to never let emotion interfere with duty, but coming from Stan, it was always too charming to rectify. Kyle had stood next to the Captain of the Guard for the ceremony, beaming nobly at his best friend as he officially asked for him to become his sworn protector. Stan had accepted almost too eagerly, wincing as the Captain gave him a deadpanned expression, but lightening up as Kyle started to laugh.

He'd flawlessly made his oath: Duty came before himself. The guard unit was his family, Larnion was forever his home, the royal family was forever his where his loyalty was to lie. Kyle's life came above all else, and he was willing to give his own and more to protect his prince. He'd kissed Kyle's hand, flickering his eyes up shyly at the elf's proud grin, the both of them holding hands for maybe just a touch too long before Stan unwillingly had let him go and bowed his head.

That day had cemented them, bonded them far beyond any relation that Kyle had felt before. From that moment on, Stan was constantly at his side, training complete and on constant alert for his safety. At first it was something Kyle considered amiable, watching those dark blue eyes scanning about, on his side as his constant companion. As the years wore on, however, Kyle was tired of the vigilance against nothing. He'd one day snapped at the noirette, telling him to relax around him, because between his constant tenseness and Kyle's relentless studies, things were starting to get to him.

On that night, Stan had sat in Kyle's room with him, nearly in tears as he apologized. He told him of his fears, how even if he _wasn't_ a guard, Kyle's safety came first. They both weren't stupid, there _were_ enemies lurking out there beyond their kingdom. Safety _was_ something that had to be taken seriously, even if Kyle didn't always see it that way. They'd come to a compromise, for their friendship to take precedence, but for Stan to still be wary. It resulted in a night of the two of them laughing, stealing wine to laugh some more, and ended with a kiss and the both of them falling into each other for the first time.

Kyle's grin nearly turned drunken as it had that night, eyes hazily looking back towards his book and unable to absorb the slightest of information. That night had been a disaster. They didn't know what they were doing. Things were clumsy and intoxicated and full of too much concern. But as first times go, the prince couldn't call it anything less than absolutely perfect. The way Stan cradled him in his hands, their inexperienced fingers curiously tracing along bone and muscle. The sweet taste of kisses tinged with grapes and pastries. How Stan was cautious at every turn, even through his haze recognizing that Kyle's comfort came above his own. He remembered with a small huff of a laugh how he'd grown impatient, demanding that Stan 'just fucking hurry up already'.

Then there was the feeling of being filled, the irrevocable bond that formed with the heat pressed inside of him for that first time. The way he'd nearly cried at the unfamiliarity and Stan had patiently stayed still for minutes, wiping tears off his lashes, peppering him with those tipsy kisses. Everything had turned from a nerve-wrecked mess of pain and confusion into a sopping puddle of warmth within a few gentle thrusts. Stan's lips had to stay attached to his own to keep the prince's noises down, hands tracing his hips and waist as though handling pottery. Kyle's own were busy clawing into his back, demanding more, insisting on remaining as close as possible. He wanted to be smothered in the warmth, he wanted Stan to steal his life away and make it his own. He didn't _want_ to be a prince and his guard in that moment. He wanted to be two boys teetering on the edge of adulthood forming together in a flawless mess of bodily fluids and fervent whispers; And he'd gotten fairly close on that occasion and every one since. His own royal dignity was tossed to the wayside, too into the moment to so much as _think_ of acting as though he held any sort of cards in their relationship as his legs were spread and he was helplessly trapped in Stan's vortex. His ranger, however, could never _quite_ let go of accountability. He still handled Kyle as though he were precious, still refused to make any sort of move that might so much as make him wince with discomfort. The redhead had yet to decide if he appreciated the care or, more likely, just wanted _both_ of their inhibitions completely tossed out the window.

Kyle sighed to himself, knowing that that just wasn't going to happen in this lifetime. Stan was far too invested in his safety for his own good, far too set in the clear facts: Kyle was royalty, so 'his life mattered more' than his own. The redhead rolled his eyes to himself, flicking the corner of his book listlessly. He couldn't complain, Stan was the best thing he had to look forward to on lonely nights, on days when life just got too hard for him to handle. Still, though, he needed _escape_ from who he was. And Stan could just never quite give him so much freedom in the long run.

"You okay?" a voice perked.

Kyle snapped his head over to Stan watching him in concern. He nodded briskly. "Yeah. I'm fine. Why?"

He gave him a knowing smirk, "Because you never take so long on one page," he gestured to the tome in front of him.

The prince shrugged sheepishly, "Well, if someone could make foreign policy a little more interesting, maybe I could actually focus on it." Stan laughed and shook his head, going back to working on his sword. Kyle twisted his lips a bit, watching him. "What would you do if I wasn't a prince?" he asked quietly.

Stan paused and blinked, looking at him confusedly. "What, you mean when you become king?"

He rolled his eyes, "No, you idiot. I mean what if I wasn't royalty? Like, we met outside the palace and I was just...I don't know...a weaver's son or something?" he shrugged.

The noirette licked over his lips, putting his weapon down and staring at him confusedly. "What do you mean what would I do?"

"Would we still be friends?" he asked softly.

He nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. Let's face it, Kyle, you act about as un-princely as possible when it's not required," he snorted. Kyle chuckled and nodded in agreement. "I mean, I can only _assume_ that you'd be the same way if you weren't an actual prince."

His lips formed tightly together, letting out a thoughtful hum. "Would you still be...so...protective?" he winced.

Stan frowned, "I've lightened up, give me some credit here."

"I know, I know," he conceded, waving his hands in front of him. "But c'mon, Stan. You're still _beyond_ defensive of me."

"That's my _job_ ," he reminded him, waving his sword hilt a bit. "I'm not your officially declared best friend, Kyle. That's just a perk to my duties."

"What if it _wasn't_ your job, though?" he demanded. "What if I was just some random kid who you happened to be best friends with. Would you still be like this?"

He sighed tiredly, "Your Highness, I don't think-"

"Stan," he snapped. "Answer me."

Stan paused, looking down at the bright silver gleam of his blade, taking a heavy breath. He looked to see those green eyes he was so fond of staring at him impatiently. His eyes traced lightly over the dusting of freckles just barely tinging his pale profile. He nearly shuddered. His lips had touched them so often, tracing down his cheek and under his ear, along his neck and chest. He adored every inch of the fiery elf before him; Every yell, every laugh, every tear. Kyle was his entire life, and a life that he was happy to indulge in every chance he could.

He finally met his stare once again, nodding softly. "Yes."

Kyle's shoulders nearly sank and he looked at him sadly, "Why?"

"Because I grew up with you," he shrugged. Kyle cocked his head confusedly and he gave him a sad smile. "I watched you getting sick time and again, always thinking I was going to lose you..." he paused and brushed some of his hair back. "Do you remember that time you got sick when we were about eight?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "Which time?"

"You _know_ which time," he said firmly, Kyle sinking into himself guiltily. It'd been awful all around. Kyle couldn't stop throwing up, he couldn't walk or talk. Stan had only been permitted to see him a handful of times in the weeks that he was incapacitated. He'd seen his prince looking so scared and fragile, the vibrant green of his eyes muddled and hidden in layer upon layer of agony. He'd lost so much weight that he'd never quite recovered, even to this day. His cheeks were sunken in, ribs prominent under his loose shirt. Stan recalled with a chilling shudder how he'd grabbed Kyle's hand, begging him to hold on while they looked for a way to make him better. The redhead's eyes had welled with tears, unable to say a thing, only able to weakly clutch his fingers back around the boy's own.

Sheila and Gerald were an absolute disaster, barely able to run the simplest of tasks for Larnion. Ike, toddling about at barely two years old, had come into Kyle's room time and again, crawling into his big brother's bed and holding onto him in tears. The kingdom was prepared for mourning, candles being made quicker than they could sell, gardens being prepared for the planting of new life as all citizens did upon a royal member's passing.

Their answer had came from the Drows of Beaverton across the lands resting beside the sea. A high healer had heard of his ailments and came to assist as best as he could with the request of their land's king and queen. A couple trials of potions later and the young prince was on an upswing, regaining color and able to make raspy words here and there. The kingdom had rejoiced, a permanent friendship with the faction had been set into place. They'd sent the healer off with mounds of gifts and powerful flowers grown only in Larnion's soil as a token of their eternal gratitude.

Even as Stan had celebrated along with the rest of Larnion, his heart had ached beyond what it ever had. He'd almost lost his best friend to a way that he could never have prevented. As he watched Kyle slowly regaining strength, laughing quietly and thanking servant after servant for their constant vigilance, he'd found himself in the thrall of his own destiny. What Stan couldn't prevent, he'd have to accept. But he would never let any outside force within his realm of control steal _his_ best friend, _his_ prince from him. As soon as Kyle had been able to form a cohesive sentence and smile without nearly passing out in exhaustion, Stan had stormed up to Sheila and Gerald requesting to train within the royal guard to protect Kyle. They'd been thrilled with the notion and set him up within the next day, despite Kyle rolling his eyes and telling him it was all unnecessary.

The noirette shook himself out of it, looking at his prince still shying down guiltily. "I almost lost you," he said quietly.

Kyle looked at him and bit his lip, "But you _didn't_. That's what matters."

"What matters is that I don't until you're like, three hundred, okay?" he scoffed.

Kyle snorted, "Pretty sure even your overprotectiveness can't get me that far, Stan."

He smirked and shrugged dismissively, "I can damn well try."

The elf smiled sadly and put his hand on the human's arm. "You realize how much more dutiful you are over this than any of my family's guards...right?" he winced.

Stan shrugged again, "Well, you're my best friend on top of it all, so I just happen to hang a little closer to you, that's all."

"Filmore is Ike's best friend," he cocked his brow.

Stan was quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, "It's different."

"How? Because of...what we do?" he said cautiously, sharp eyes glancing for any potential passer-bys.

The ranger tongued over his lips, "In a way, yeah," he said softly. He blushed nervously, stomach bubbling and forcing himself to stop a possible projectile of bile as he felt Kyle continuing to study him carefully.

"What do you mean...in a _way_?" he narrowed his eyes curiously.

"It's not important," he said quietly.

Kyle blinked, "Obviously it is or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

" _You_ started it, Ky," he reminded him.

"And _you_ added the new element," he argued. "Stan, what the fuck is going on?"

He refused to look at him. He _couldn't_. The ranger stroked over his hilt with his thumb, eyes locked down on the intricate detail lingering under the ridges. "It's not important," he repeated.

Kyle's eyes shifted on a dime to frustration. "Dammit, Stan, what on Earth is up with you?"

Stan finally dared to look at him, heart lurching at the anger and hurt returning his stare. A soft lilac movement caught his attention and he looked past Kyle to see Kendra approaching in the distance, caught between relief and his own resentment. "Princess," he said hurriedly, getting to his feet and bowing, feeling Kyle's anger beaming at him from changing the subject.

"Don't you _dare_ try to get away from me, Stanley," Kyle demanded, getting to his feet as well as Kendra watched in confusion. "Don't use her as your escape-"

"I'm sure you two have some...uh... _talking_ to do?" he winced, looking at Kendra who silently laughed and nodded. He looked down at his fuming prince and gulped. "Have fun, Your Highnesses," he said, grabbing his sword and stepping away from the table, gesturing for Kendra to take his seat before heading away to the other side of the room.

Kyle watched after him, fists clenched and an annoyed breath escaping him. Kendra stepped up beside him, looking between the redhead and the receding, nervous noirette and cocking her head. Kyle flinched as a paper was pushed against him, _'Are you all right?'_

He looked up at the concerned blonde and took a deep breath. "I don't know," he said honestly. "He's acting... _weird_ ," he cocked his brow. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Oh well, I'll corner him later. Bastard can't stay away from me for long without thinking there's an arrow in my fucking neck," he rolled his eyes. He sighed off some of his stress to redirect his focus. "How are you, Princess?" he asked tiredly.

She just nodded with a small smile, sitting down and grasping his wrist for him to do the same. Kyle gulped and did as directed, the both of them staring at each other silently.

"So..." Kyle broke through awkwardly. "What's...up?" he winced.

Kendra smirked, glancing between him and his parchment as she wrote, sliding it over to him with a cocked brow. _'Are you always so adorably awkward? Or is that_ _ **also**_ _just for me?'_

Kyle's face burned, eyes lingering on the adjective. How casual it'd been written, how easily she'd wormed it into the sentence as though she'd been saying such things to him all her life. "Uh..." he looked at her embarrassedly as she eagerly awaited a response. "I...I uh..." he couldn't find his words, every ounce of eloquence he held seeping from his lips and dripping onto his shaking fingers, passing through them like fine sand.

Another note caught his attention, _'Please, My Prince, save_ _ **some**_ _of this utterly romantic banter for the wedding night. I feel spoiled.'_

She winked at him and he burned deeper, Kendra watching with a wide grin. "Shut up," he finally snapped in fluster, watching as she placed her head into her arms in laughter, shoulders convulsing as she tried so desperately to keep herself silent. Kyle scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair, staring at his book with a pout. She looked up at him and smiled at the light crinkle on his nose, the frustrated furrow of his brow, the quick batting of thick lashes. He finally looked over at her, lips still twisted. "What?" he bit.

She grinned, _'Nothing, My dear. I just didn't realize that_ _ **you**_ _would be the one needing a fan to cover your blush at gatherings is all.'_

He groaned and hid his eyes with his hand, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. He felt her hand gently being placed on his back, rubbing subtly and he froze, eyes shooting open under his palm. Her hand left automatically with the tension, another note pressing against him a few moments later. _'Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Touch wise, at least.'_

He glanced over to her wincing and shook his head. "You're fine..." he said hesitantly. "It just surprised me is all." They stared at each other again, light green and blue locked against one another like a stormy sea, waiting to see which one of them could take hold of the tide. Kyle finally shook himself and cleared his throat. "Did you need something?" he asked finally.

' _Just wanted to see you,'_ she replied honestly. _'You're the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm a freak.'_

He looked back at a saddened expression and his own fell pitiably, "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "The others just aren't used to humans they haven't seen for all their lives."

' _Even the_ _ **other**_ _humans?'_ she looked up in Stan's direction with a quick challenging brow.

Kyle glanced between the both of them, seeing Stan's eyes locked on the princess and a slight crinkle on his forehead, just barely hidden under his choppy bangs. Kyle sighed tiredly. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "They _will_ get used to you, I promise. This is an adjustment for everyone."

' _You seem to be adjusted to me quite well_ ,' she teased.

He shrugged with a returning smirk, "I don't have much choice in the matter, do I?" She rolled her eyes in good humor and nodded. She glanced to the book in front of him and cocked her head, pointing at it curiously. He sighed, "Studies on foreign policy." He flicked the book in boredom, "Always updating. I'll have a new edition by next week regarding Kupa Keep I'm sure," he grumbled. "Don't know about you but it's the first time I'll be in one of these stupid things," he waved towards it dismissively.

' _What are you reading about now?'_

He licked over his lips and cleared his throat. "Well, it's in regards to the Drow faction in Canada and our currency exchanges when we make trades."

' _Sounds fun.'_

"Oh, it's a riot," he drawled. "We actually have a meeting coming up with their king next week, we're wanting to up our export rate of soil so we can increase our profits."

Kendra raised his brow, drafting her response with a cautious stance. _'You export dirt?'_

He shrugged, "Soil is important. Up in their region it's hard to find any soil fertile enough to grow what they need, so we send it to them to use within their botanical houses. You wouldn't _think_ just 'dirt' would warrant a two hour discussion, but that's honestly one of the shorter meetings," he chuckled.

She smirked, _'Sounds awful.'_

"Oh, it is," he nodded with a grin. "Welcome to the always enthralling land of the Drow," he teased. She laughed and he slid the book between the both of them. "I'm probably going to the meeting, which means you're welcome to, too, if you want," he offered with a wince.

Kendra stared at him for a moment and blinked, passing him another hasty note. _'I've never_ _ **been**_ _in a meeting like that.'_

He glanced up at her worried face, smiling assuredly.

"Well, you can just observe, then. You said you're a better listener," he reminded her. "So you can listen and see how we handle things...If you're okay with that idea," he added hurriedly.

She smiled gently and nodded, scooting herself closer, their arms resting against one another's. Kyle coughed lightly, eyes widening before focusing his attention back onto the book, starting to shakily pick out specific points and explain them to her. The princess took in every word, nodding attentively and eyes sparkling with curiosity as his words flew between them as smooth as silk.

From across the room, Stan watched them with crossed arms, teeth grating against each other as he watched how close the two of them were sitting. His eyes darkened, narrowed dangerously at the foreign blonde, sitting there so casually close and personal, daring to touch _his_ prince.


	9. Set Into Motion

His chin rested within the palm of his plump hand, amber eyes watching listlessly as the carriage rolled on. He hated traveling. Three days of being cooped up in this death box was simply _beyond_ irritating. He could see his palace off in the distance and sighed in relief, far past the point of ready to get this journey over with. He mindlessly flicked a speck of lint from his robes, eyes sliding over to the man sitting across from him engrossed in yet another book.

"Keep that scowl up and it'll be permanently stuck there," Garrison commented dryly, not so much as breaking from turning his page.

The king scoffed, "Please. Were there any truth in that wives tale, I would've had it stuck for years."

He shrugged listlessly, "I suppose that's true." He finally glanced up at Eric once more staring out the window irritably. "The fuck's wrong with you?" he questioned. "You got what you wanted."

"Hm," he mused. "I suppose. Some of it, anyway."

The man smirked knowingly, putting his book down and folding his hands atop his lap. "Were you disappointed that Kyle's not as 'savage' as you convinced yourself he was?"

The brunette sputtered, "No! I wasn't thinking about that stupid piece of Jersian shit!"

"Uh huh," he crossed his arms and legs, bouncing his dangling foot. "You know you've _always_ been shit at lying, right?"

He cocked his brow, "Then how did I convince those stupid elves to take in a human?"

"Dumb luck," he scoffed. "You took advantage of a race of good people, great on ya, Eric." The king flipped him off and he snorted, shaking his head. "Come on, somethin's eating at ya."

He twisted his lips and sighed irritably, "Kahl just _had_ to remind me that I set him up for success if people actually accept him and Kendra together."

Garrison snorted, "Ah, because they're gonna be married and you're not?"

He shrugged dismissively, "I mean, it's fine. I don't particularly _want_ to share my kingdom anyway. Besides, not having to take someone else's dumb feelings into consideration is a nice perk."

"Hm, but not having a lineage isn't," he pointed out.

Cartman forced the victorious smirk off his face and cleared his throat. "Well, that's someone else's problem when I'm dead and gone," he said dryly. He brushed hair out of his eyes and yawned, "Kahl thinks having a _wife_ of all things will put him ahead of me royally."

He cocked his brow, "It _will_." The king looked at him and narrowed his eyes and the man shrugged. "Two monarchs are better than one, Eric. Not to mention taking some responsibilities off your shoulders. That's probably why your mom died so young," he said wistfully. "Too much for one person to handle."

Eric held back yet another smirk and sighed, "Yes well, my mother didn't know how to get things done like I do."

"You mean didn't _want_ to declare war at every transgression," he rolled his eyes.

His eyes sparkled deviously, "Gotta show that you're the one in charge." The man shook his head and Eric narrowed his eyes. "Kupa Keep _needs_ to remind the lands that we're the top of the food chain."

"We're _not_ ," he scoffed. "Hell, if anything, Larnion is closer to being supreme since they have The Stick, but since they only keep it hidden and don't utilize it, everyone has equal rule. You _know_ this, Eric, it was day friggin' one of your training."

"Well I'd like to see a better future for our people," he deadpanned. "On top of the map where we belong."

Garrison just sighed, both of them glancing to the door as the carriage halted. It opened, both of them squinting at the sunlight exploding within the box. "We're here, Your Majesty," a guard informed them.

"Fuckin' finally," he groaned, getting up and heading outside, standing and stretching his legs as he let out a long yawn. "Fuckin' Drows living in the middle of fucking nowhere."

"And yet you _still_ think they're too close to us," Garrison scoffed, standing beside him and cracking his neck.

"Watch yourself," he warned the duke. "I'll be in my chambers."

"What a shock," the man muttered, shaking his head and helping the guards beginning to unload the carriage.

Eric regained his strong stride, guards hurrying to open the back doors of the palace and watching him step through without so much as a glance to the both of them. The Wizard King kept his head high, hearing each nervous greeting as he passed servants and smirking to himself. It was _good_ to be king.

He glanced at a large portrait in the hallway, depicting a woman with kind brown eyes and the soft, flowing hair to match. He paused for a brief moment, letting his stare linger in her own and sighing tiredly. A part of him couldn't help but miss her. The way she quietly encouraged him to be the best at whatever he did. How she coddled and praised him, how she bragged of how wonderful of a king he would make someday. He smirked to himself. How _very_ right his mother had been. Shame she couldn't see it.

He made way through the winding corridors, coming to the ornate golden decoration of his door and shoving it open. He yawned again, taking his crown from atop his head and setting it on his dresser, running his fingers through his hair and scratching at his scalp. He needed a bath and a meal. He knew the kitchen would be frantically preparing him something now that he'd returned and he smiled fondly, glad to be back in home territory. He didn't have _smiling_ and _happy_ servants parading around doing fuck all. He had a clean cut system, one that people who worked for him feared. They knew punishment was _always_ on the table, and King Eric was _far_ from being lenient for people slacking in peasant work. He stretched his arms up, his spine popping and echoing in the large space marred by his contented sigh.

"Trip was enjoyable, then?" a voice smooth as oil perched the air.

He whipped around, seeing a dark haired figure leaning against the opposite wall, smiling at him with a fanged grin. Ruby eyes shone with mischief as he stared at the heavyweight. Cartman scoffed, "Fuck off, Damien. I just got home."

"I'm more than aware," he purred, moving across the floor fluidly as smoke in long, elegant strides towards his bed. He sighed, falling back and propping himself with his hands, crossing his legs as he watched the monarch. "Well? Care to let me in?"

He rolled his eyes, "It went just fucking fine, you freak."

Pointed ears perked in attention. "Oh? Just fine?"

Eric sighed irritably, turning and staring at the elf across the room from him. He narrowed his eyes. He didn't particularly like Damien, never had. But he was a necessity to his plans that couldn't be avoided. "Are you wanting me to tell you of my entire trip?" he demanded.

"No," he shrugged. "Only what pertains to _me_ ," he tongued over his fangs. "Tell me, how did things go with 'Kendra'?" he air-quoted.

"Just fine," he cocked his brow superiorly and leaned back against his dresser, the oak moving back just a bit with his weight. "He's set to marry."

"Good for him," he grinned. "Hopefully he can keep his charms up with the Drows."

He nodded, "Hopefully. If he wants his sister to be safe, he fucking will."

"Hm," the elf perched a brow in amusement. "Cruel, Your Majesty."

Cartman smirked, "No other way to be, is there?"

He let out a dark chuckle that sent a chill down the monarch's spine. "Indeed," he agreed. "Now..." his eyes alit with a devilish gleam of hunger. "What of our little prince?"

He rolled his eyes, "He's still fucking annoying as shit."

"How so?"

The king waved his hands around dramatically, "Still Mr. Vice and Virtue. Thinks he's better than any human."

"Any human? Or...just yourself?" he challenged, pointing at him with a long, clawed finger.

He scowled, "Well he's _always_ thought that like the fucking idiot he is."

"How did he take our little arrangement?" he asked, swinging his foot mindlessly as he watched the glutton with a heightened curiosity.

Eric grinned, "He's _furious_. It's fantastic." That look of anger and defeat in Kyle's eyes was prominent even under his heightened elegance. No amount of training could have prepared anyone for such a shock announcement, and the redhead was of no exception. The king indulged himself in a smile, wondering with a twisting stomach of glee if Kyle had cried about it. If he was lost, and knew how very trapped he was in Cartman's game. It was downright orgasmic in its own right.

"Hm," Damien hummed, nodding his head slowly. "He's certainly not the so-called 'ugly' boy of your youth, is he?"

Cartman shot his head up and narrowed his eyes. "How the fuck did you-"

"You think I haven't seen him myself?" he grinned deviously, flicking his hand up in a quick motion. Cartman watched in interest as a smoky portal appeared before him out of thin air, seeing Kyle talking to Kendra, pointing to a book as she watched him, enthralled in his conversation. Damien smirked, "They sure know how to grow 'em in Larnion," he commented casually.

The king crossed his arms and huffed, "If you could _see_ , why the fuck did you need me to _tell you_ how it went?"

"I like to hear my information straight from the pig's mouth," he shrugged, ignoring Cartman's furious growl and looking back at the redhead as he laughed at something Kendra wrote for him. "He seems to be adjusting to Kenneth quite well," he observed.

Eric walked over to see the vision better, glaring at the two of them casually talking, leaned in close to each other. "Well, that's no fucking fun," he scoffed.

"Isn't this what we _want_?" Damien questioned. "For them to get along and Kenneth to get the information we need?"

He pouted, "Well I wanted Kahl to suffer at least a _little_."

"Oh, he is," he relayed, tonguing over his lips. "He's going to have to lose his little fuckbuddy with this arrangement before long."

Cartman jerked back in shock. "Fuckbuddy? Who?"

Damien's lips curled into a cruel grin, "Our prim little prince has been spreading his legs for his ranger for years."

The brunette blinked before breaking into hysteric laughter, clutching at his stomach. "Oh my god. Oh my _god._ Are you fucking serious?!" he cackled.

"Very," he chuckled. "And it gets _better_ ," he purred.

"Oh?" he asked, hands nearly trembling in excitement at the prospect of gaining more of an edge in the overall game.

Those rubies flickered up to meet his grinning stare. "His ranger is in love with him," he shrugged casually. "When little Kyle breaks them off, it'll break his heart."

His smile dropped a bit in disappointment. "Oh. Well, I don't really give two fucks about his fucking ranger's feelings."

He wagged his bony finger in the air. "Ahp ahp ahp, you don't seem to comprehend the bigger picture, Your Majesty. This is going to be a wonderful part of our little game." Cartman raised his brow skeptically and Damien chuckled. "Little Prince breaks off with the ranger. The ranger as his _main guard_ is crushed. His defenses are lowered. Little Prince is ripe for the taking with little to no chance of opposition in the way," he grinned deviously.

Cartman blinked, breaking into a matching smile. "Good point," he nodded. He looked back over to Kyle and Kendra and raised his brow. "So, what's _your_ endgame here?"

"Sorry?" he asked, not breaking from the vision before him.

"The fuck are you wanting Kahl for?"

Those brimming eyes met his once again, a moment of silence drifting between them. "Is it really of such concern?" he finally asked innocently. "If I give you what _you_ want in the end, do _my_ motives really hold such bearing on what you do?"

He scoffed, "I'm fucking curious, so fucking sue me."

Damien smacked his lips disinterestedly and shrugged, "Curiosity is for elves. You humans do nothing but fuck things up when you wonder." He flickered his eyes back over to Kyle who was pouting and blushing as Kendra was laughing yet again. "He has his purpose," he murmured before waving the vision away and hopping to his feet. He looked over at the baffled monarch and smirked, "Problem, Your Majesty?"

"I don't enjoy being kept out of the loop by my associates," he said lowly, crossing his arms.

"No," he snapped with a glare, the king recoiling a bit in shock at the sudden shift in demeanor. "You are _my_ associate," he reminded him darkly. "Without _me_ , you wouldn't be able to do a damn _thing_."

Cartman straightened back up and scowled, "I would've figured something out."

Damien scoffed derisively. "Except for one _tiny_ problem, King boy: A human cannot wield the full potential of The Stick," he reminded him in a hiss. "You can access a _fraction_ of its power, but _I_ can bring it _all_ out."

"A fraction is all I need," he replied snobbishly.

He quirked his brow, "Not for the amount of power that you're wanting to hold in your fat little fingers. You need me _far_ more than I need you."

"If it wasn't for _me_ getting Kinny in there, then you wouldn't have a prayer!" he snapped.

"Oh?" he challenged, crossing his arms and bouncing his leg a bit. "You think that I couldn't have done it on my own? _Wrong_ ," he said sharply. "You're just taking the time span down a notch. You're nothing but a _convenience_ on my end."

Cartman scowled, "Kinny is the one who can find out where The Stick is!"

"You think I couldn't just take the Little Prince and ransom him for it?" he smirked. "This just helps eliminate the chance of an armada coming after me."

"Why would you ransom him if you want to keep him?" he blinked.

"Who said I'd give him back?" he smirked. Cartman shifted a bit and glared as Damien let out a silky, demonic laugh from the back of his throat. "That's one thing humans and dark elves hold so _beautifully_ in common:" he purred. "We don't play fair."

"And that's why we win," Cartman finished smugly, feeling more at ease with the familiar chilled darkness settled back upon the elf.

He tongued over his fangs and nodded, "Precisely. Now, I expect you to keep me updated on events, yes?" he questioned.

Eric rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I'll keep you in the damn loop. Kinny's supposed to be updating me every week."

"Excellent," he nodded in approval. "Oh, and _do_ inform me of any information regarding my little redhead, hm?"

Cartman raised his brow warily at his tone but nodded in agreement. "If I learn anything, I guess."

"Good. I'll see you around, Your Majesty," he smirked, Eric watching as he sunk into the ground, a thin layer of smoke rising from his descent and dissipating into the air. He stared at the wine-colored carpeting for a good few moments before raising his eyes back to look at the setting sun glistening through the window. He smiled to himself, huffing out a small laugh. For an elf, Damien was at the very least tolerable in the monarch's eyes, even despite his little recalcitrant attitude. He bit his lip eagerly, his anticipation mounting for what laid ahead of the both of them. Damien's plans for himself, he had little interest in, but for his own...He took a deep, satisfactory breath, amber eyes practically fluttering. He just couldn't wait.


	10. Paving the Path

' _Dear Princess Kendra,_

_King Eric told me I have to write to you every week about some girl you know? I'm sorry this is late, I tried to get this to you sooner, I really did! It took me forever, but I found her! Please don't be angry with me, the king is already mad enough that I spilled soup on one of his tapestries. I've been trying to get the stain out for three days now it's insane!_

_Karen is apparently her name? I hope that's the right one?! King Eric told me I'm supposed to get facts from her about her brother that only she would know. But, she doesn't know me at all yet, so she's really shy and she's not telling me anything outside of what I can only guess is basic information?! She told me his name was Kenneth, but everyone called him Kenny. Does that count? If not let me know and I'll try harder but she doesn't really trust me yet, but I tried so hard to get more information out of her, but I think she has to warm up to me first? Maybe? I don't know! I'm trying, Your Highness, I really am! She's really nice, works for a nice old lady who made me coffee it was pretty good. I think it had nutmeg in it, really it was great and she gave me four cups and Karen just laughed at how I drank it so fast and I thought she was making fun of me, but I think she's just being polite? She might hate me. Strong possibility._

_I'll keep trying to get more out of her and be more punctual, Princess, I promise!_

_-Tweek_

_PS: Can you tell Craig to send me an update on you guys? The king kinda won't let me write to him I don't think. If not though, that's fine and sorry to ask!'_

Kenny's lips curled into a smile, thumb stroking over the parchment in his slim fingers. He let out a long breath of relief through his nose. Karen was safe. Tweek was still fucking insane, but Karen was _safe_. And no doubt the jittery blonde would keep her that way. He was loyal almost to a fault once he became close with anyone. He'd nervously wave his sword in front of an enemy and scream nonsense, but it always made for the perfect distraction for his friends to make their escape if need-be.

He gently folded the note back up and tucked it away into the top drawer of his maple desk, letting his fingertips linger on the material as he slid it back into place. He sighed, grabbing the baby blue scarf from beside him and wrapping it back around his mouth. Kenny could rest easy for right now. The day was beginning and Kendra had her duties to attend to.

A sharp knock rapped on her door and she blinked in shock, glancing over as it pushed open slightly. "Uh, Princess?" Kyle's timid voice called. She smiled fondly under her scarf. "I don't know how to do this?" he said, standing outside and blinking questionably at Stan who shrugged. "Uh, hit something once for me to come in or twice for no?" he winced.

Kendra snorted, hitting her desktop once. Kyle sighed in relief and pushed open the door, looking at the princess and scratching at his hair awkwardly. "Hi," he said.

She waved, getting to her feet and heading over to stand in front of him, watching him expectantly. She folded her hands gracefully in front of her white and gold trimmed skirt, cocking her head at the younger.

"So, that meeting with the Canada faction is about to happen," he drawled. "We have both kings here...Um...So...If you still wanna..." he looked up at her and cringed, hoping she could fill in the blanks on her own.

She patted his soft curls and silently laughed, nodding at him. Kyle watched her blue eyes light with interest and let out a long breath of respite.

He nodded, "Good. I had someone set up some parchment for you...In case you want to comment on something or ask a question and I could write a response. Or something," he cleared his throat. She nodded excitedly, beyond elated with the prospect. Getting to actually be _involved_ with royal duties, with _making decisions_ for a kingdom was something she'd always wanted. Sitting there looking pretty and nothing else under Cartman's thumb had never boded well for her, this was her opportunity to finally be able to learn the ropes of a kingdom, even if the Drows _were_ different from the humans. A part of her wondered if that could be played to her advantage, not risking a possible clash of interests between customs.

Kyle smiled at her enthusiasm and jerked his head back, "Well, come on then." He pivoted on his heel, beginning to lead her out into the hall. He held up his hand to stop her in front of a handmaiden smiling gently at the princess and the prince blushed. "So, since this is a dignitary meeting, we have to wear fucking symbols of authority or whatever," he waved his hands dramatically, nodding to the servant. She opened a deep box resting in her arm and Kyle reached in, grabbing a wooden, knotted tiara from the confines. Kendra's eyes gleamed with interest at the small bouts of ivy twirling along, small orange flowers sprinkled about to add splashes of color. "Here," he tried thrusting it towards her before the handmaiden cleared her throat.

"Your Highness, it's customary for _you_ to put the tiara on her head for the first time," she reminded him gently. "A token of sharing your kingdom with your beloved."

Green eyes snapped over towards her and he gave her an angry smile through the red beaming throughout his cheeks at the term. "Gee. Thank you," he said through his teeth. Kendra's shoulders shook in hysterics and Kyle looked at her with a pout. He grimaced, looking at the tiara in his hands up to her head. He'd have to stand on his fucking _toes_ for this. The princess read his concerns right off, giving him a gentle smile and slowly dropping onto her knees, looking up at him expectantly. He gulped, shakily reaching forward and placing the tiara into her hair, the soft blonde locks brushing against his fingers, each touch sending a spiked shudder through his nerves.

He took his hands back and shoved them stiffly to his side, Stan watching him and shaking his head subtly, watching the princess rising back onto her feet in a graceful swoop. The handmaiden directed the box towards her, "And you do the same for him, Your Highness," she said kindly.

Kendra blinked in surprise, Kyle raising his brow at faint color taking over her own cheeks. She couldn't help but be frozen for a moment, the concept of equality a foreign mystery to her. She shook herself out of it and swallowed down the thoughts, reaching in and grasping Kyle's crown, cocking her head at the redhead's narrowed eyes.

"What the fuck. Where's my old one?" he asked, eyeing the matching orange flowers cresting along the base, similar ivy winding up each jutting branch.

"You are betrothed, Prince Kyle. When that happens, you and your beloved are given matching coronals," she explained. "A visible symbol of your union."

Kyle blinked, that word just hitting him all over again and looking up to see Kendra looking just as embarrassed as himself. He sighed inwardly in relief. Well. At least he wasn't the _only_ one not entirely comfortable with these damn customs. Kendra straightened herself up, delicately moving to slip the crown onto Kyle's head, following it down around. The tip of her finger brushed against the back of his ear, the prince doing his best to contain his shudder. Stan watched, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to experience the thick taste of copper worming through, tainting his mouth. Kyle always turned to putty with that spot; Only _he_ knew that. This foreigner had no _right_ to so casually brush against it, even if it _was_ a mere accident.

The royals looked at each other as Kendra slowly took her hands back in silence, ignorant to Stan's bristling from not a foot away from them. Kyle cleared his throat. "Well," he said, trying to force down the shaky nature of his voice. "Shall we?" Kendra smiled again and nodded, Kyle turning and waiting for her to step to his side before setting off to lead her and Stan down to the conference room.

Kendra once more raised her brow slightly in surprise, unable to wrap her mind around walking side-by-side with the elf. She'd half expected things to be the way Cartman had told her royal life was like for an 'outsider'. She'd always be in the back, there for the support of the 'true' monarch and merely a figurehead. But Kyle seemed willing to _involve_ her. She didn't know why it bewildered her as it did. After all, his mother did not come from Larnion soil, but she certainly seemed to be the domineering factor within the realm. She let out a silent sigh of relief with a tinge of exhaustion. She was nervous. _Beyond_ nervous. The Drows of Canada would be the first dignitaries she'd meet as someone involved with their ways. She had to play this in a respectable manner, had to earn favor. She gulped, knowing that was much easier said than done.

She bit her lip as they approached a group of four in the corridor outside of the conference room, Sheila and Gerald talking to two tall, lanky figures. She shut her eyes and took another deep breath, flinching at a touch on her arm. She looked down to see Kyle quickly snapping his hand back towards himself, blinking nervously from her reaction. "Sorry," he murmured. She shook her head and patted his shoulder, Kyle reading with ease that it was just her nerves. He brought the three of them to a stop and looked up at her with a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine," he promised. "All you have to do is observe if you want to, all right? Just breathe. You'll be more bored than nervous, I guarantee it." She smiled shakily and nodded, Kyle just barely patting her arm with the tips of his fingers before continuing to guide them down the way.

Sheila noticed them approaching, a wide, proud smile on her plump face. "There you are," she cooed. She eyed the couple's matching crowns and couldn't help but feel such giddiness swirling within her.

The Canadian kings turned, looking back at the approaching royals and their eyes widening in surprise.

"King Terrance. King Phillip," Kyle smiled, offering them a respectful bow, Kendra following suit with a curtsey. "Wonderful to see you again."

"Holy shit it's _true_ ," Phillip gaped.

The two of them cocked their brows as Terrance stepped towards them, looking between the both of them. "Holy shit," he repeated. "Kyle, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

Kendra gulped nervously, wanting nothing more than to run and hide in her room. This was what she feared. She was _fucked._ Kyle looked at his mother starting to approach and held up his hand to stop her, the queen blinking and cocking her head. He gave her a knowing look and she nodded in understanding, stepping back beside Gerald, the both of them weaving their fingers with one another's worriedly.

The prince cleared his throat and straightened himself out. "My Kings, this is Princess Kendra of Kupa Keep," he introduced her, the blonde giving a small, embarrassed nod.

"We know," Phillip crossed his arms and raised his brow suspiciously. "That doesn't explain the crowns," he waved towards their matching headwear.

"We're engaged," he said smoothly, inherent authority starting to replace his humiliation and hatred of the fact. "Our union will bring Zaron together and, with any luck, expand the notion that our species can coincide in peace." He pressed his fingers together in front of him, staying steady. "We can only hope that our union will also expand the waves of trade for not only Larnion and Kupa Keep, but beyond our borders as well. After all, who makes better wine than Kupa Keep? Aside from your French district of course," he smiled gently. The kings looked at each other and shared a smug smirk. "They grow grapes not available to be produced within your land's climate," he continued. "Perhaps something can be managed as to where they send you grapes and you send them back the finest wines you can make with such fruit. Maybe along the way establish a long and prosperous relationship in which you both come out of the deal with more money in your pockets and more wine in your stomachs."

Sheila and Gerald smiled brilliantly at their son, sharing a look and laughing silently with one another. Kendra looked down at the young redhead in astonishment, unable to believe the boy stammering with knocking on her door could shift on so quick a dime to being such a smooth talking dignitary. She smiled at him fondly. Larnion was in good hands.

Phillip snorted and shook his head at the prince's little speech. "You always think things through, dontcha, Kyle?"

"Well, I try, Your Majesty," he replied suavely.

Terrance flicked his arm, "Always the little know-it-all."

"Well _someone_ has to be. Lord knows you Canadians need all the persuasion of sharing you can get if you're anything like Ike and how he refuses to so much as share air with me," he smirked. The two of them burst out laughing and Kendra's shoulders slunk in relief, feeling the tension leaving the corridor with their guffawing.

"He always has been a Canadian through and through," Terrance snorted, pushing his short black hair off his forehead. "You Larnions aren't gonna get him as easily as you may think," he teased.

Kyle shrugged dismissively, "Please. All I have to do is wave some poutine in his face and his instincts have him whining and claiming he'll do anything if he can get some."

They laughed again and Kyle looked at his parents, who nodded approvingly, Sheila's green eyes glistening with gasconade for her boy. The king and queen shared yet another look, Gerald nodding his approval immediately and Sheila clearing her throat as the kings settled. The group looked at her and she smiled. "My Kings, would you permit this meeting to be...a bit of an experiment?"

Phillip cocked his head, "What? We gonna actually make it short this time?" he snorted.

"How would you feel if Kyle and Kendra took our places?" she asked politely. The young couples' eyes widened in shock. "Kyle knows your customs just as well as ourselves and Kendra needs to learn. If you feel uncomfortable at any time, Gerald and I can step back in," she assured them.

The kings looked at each other and down to Kyle. "Ya ain't gonna jerk us around, are you, Kyle?" Terrance raised his brow with a smirk.

He gulped down his nerves, voice falling back into its flattering tone. "King Terrance, _please_. You know how I value our countries' friendship..." he smirked back, "Besides, I find these talks just as 'enthralling' as yourselves. Why waste precious time playing hardball?"

Phillip chuckled, glancing back at Sheila. "Well, he _definitely_ has your conversationalist skills. Willing to bet he has the Jersian hardballing in there, too," he winked.

"Well, how about you find out?" she smiled sweetly.

The blonde king shrugged. "Fine by us. We'll call if Kyle starts trying to overthrow our country," he smirked, leading Terrance into the conference room.

Kyle waited until they were out of earshot before grabbing his mother's arm and ripping her out of view of the doorway. "Are you _crazy_?!" he hissed quietly, losing every ounce of elegance in his nerves. "Ma, I haven't ever done this! And Kendra doesn't know anything about-"

"Hush," she said, pushing on his shoulder. He groaned and rolled his eyes, dropping to one knee and pouting. She smirked, reaching up and pushing on Kendra's shoulder as well. She blinked in confusion, following Kyle's example, the both of them staring up at her expectantly. "Kyle, you _can_ do this," she promised. "All you have to do is convince them they need more soil. That's it. You made a new trading prospect just thinking on your feet! You'll do wonderfully, and your father and I will be right out here if you need us." She paused, looking at Kendra and smiling lovingly. "I'm sorry for how they behaved, Princess. Rest assured, Kyle will be working nonstop to dismantle such rash assumptions."

"Uh, how about _you_ be working on that, too?" Kyle raised his brow dryly. "You _remember_ that this was your idea, right?"

"Hush," she repeated. She gestured her hand up, the both of them rising to their feet. "Go on," the queen urged.

Kyle looked up at Kendra, both of them sharing a nervous glance and taking a simultaneous breath. They straightened themselves out, walking to the room's door, Stan following behind. Kyle allowed the blonde to go in front of him, looking once more at his parents worriedly. They smiled reassuringly and he gulped, following the princess into the room, leaving Stan behind to close the door as he made way to sit and be on alert. The ranger pouted as he sat in a chair off to the side, wondering why _Craig_ didn't have to attend meetings constantly like he did. He shook his head to himself. Who was he kidding? It was more time with Kyle, he never minded. Besides, watching him interact with other dignitaries was _always_ a treat.

The prince and princess took their seats across from the kings and Kyle cleared his throat. "So," he said smoothly. "How goes the production within Canada?"

"Fairly well," Phillip answered. "Wheat and barley rates are up pretty drastically from last year."

He nodded, "And are any other crops making any kind of development?"

"Pretty flat, actually," Terrance shrugged awkwardly, looking over at the blonde sitting straight and attentively. "So, human, huh?" he asked. Kendra nodded and he set his lips, letting out a hum of thought. "You ever been to Canada?" She shook her head, adding a regretful tone to her expression.

Phillip cocked his brow, "The fuck's wrong with you? You humans usually don't stop talking."

Kyle narrowed his eyes in the slightest. "She's mute."

"Must be nice," Terrance cackled. "Getting a human to shut up is like trying to get a Beavertonian into the desert."

Kyle growled under his breath at the two of them laughing with each other, looking to see Kendra staring at the table in silence. Kyle grabbed one of her parchments and a quill, passing her a note. _'Don't take it personally. These two are fucking assholes through and through regardless of who you are.'_ Kendra looked at him and offered a weak smile for the kind words, Kyle's chest tightening at the embarrassment in her eyes.

She jotted him a return, _'It's fine. I can't expect automatic equality. Progression takes time I guess. Right?'_ Kyle read the note, looking back at her tired smile and blinking. A spark of inspiration shot through him with her word. Progression. There it was. Kendra caught the driven look and raised her brow, Kyle patting her arm. A silent signal: He had this; Watch and learn.

He cleared his throat, "Jealous?" he finally asked the two of them. They glanced over with cocked heads and he shrugged. "I mean, with the way you two ramble on, I _highly_ doubt either of you can get a word in edgewise," he taunted.

Phillip snorted, "You don't know the _half_ of it," he elbowed his fellow king. Terrance pushed him back and they chortled again.

Kyle leaned back and shrugged, crossing his arms, "Besides, that's something that sets Larnion apart from Canada."

They paused, looking at him confusedly. "Whaddya mean?" Terrance questioned.

"We're progressive," he said smoothly. "Our land and culture are always expanding, it's how we've stayed the steadfast kingdom that we are."

Phillip nodded, "Can't argue with that." He jerked his head over to Kendra. "Though taking _her_ as a wife may be setting trends a bit far, Kyle."

"Oh?" he challenged, grabbing her hand for show atop the table and linking their fingers together, the both of them resisting the urge to turn red at the contact. "Or are you just behind the times?" he asked smoothly.

Terrance chuckled, "Kyle, come on. She's mute, so she can't yell at you if you say how you _really_ feel." He shrugged, "Besides, it's an _arranged_ marriage. Doesn't count if it's forced."

"Who says it's forced?" he cocked his brow. "Whether or not she came into our kingdom by matter of choice isn't important. What _is_ important is I feel that her presence will bring great prosperity to us. And you _know_ how my intuition always sings of the truth," he reminded them smartly. They glanced at each other and twisted their lips. He had a point. Kyle first meeting them when he was only a child of six had resulted in him predicting a mutiny by a grace of Ontario, Duke Scott the Dick. They'd apprehended the man and brought him to trial, finding his plans against the monarchy and forging a steadfast alliance with the Larnions and the kings becoming more than fond of the redhead across from them.

"Once again, can't argue with that," Phillip scratched through his blonde hair.

"Kendra will bring the harvest of good will between species," he squeezed her hand for emphasis. "Perhaps you should consider bringing your _own_ good harvests to your people," he hinted.

Terrance smirked, "Clever. But our crops are doing fine."

"Your production in everything _but_ wheat and barley is down, Your Majesties. I've read the reports," he said firmly, watching the kings cringe in embarrassment. "You _need_ to up your rates or your economy will fall," he warned.

"Our economy will fall because the _other_ elven economies are down," Terrance argued. "Your own included," he gestured towards the prince, who stayed steady. "We can't change that."

He raised his brow, "Right. _You_ can't. But _I_ can and am," he held up his and Kendra's linked fingers and shook them a bit. "Myself and Kendra are forging the path, Your Majesties; The path to opening up the human realms to indulge in the assets that only _elves_ can provide them. Think of it: The humans which reside in your own country indulging in the succulent food that only _you_ can grow with our soil. Wine produced from the fruits that only _you_ can make. The humans of Jersey will indulge in the barley that _you_ make for their ale, and we _all_ know how they tend to overindulge in that," he gestured to himself, getting another small chuckle out of the kings. "My Kings, you have come to Larnion time and again for advice, and you agreed yourselves, _we_ are the trendsetters. Let us set you for a bright future. Get yourselves ahead of the game as Princess Kendra and I prepare to announce our union and become the bridge between our species'. That way when trades start, you'll be right on target and ready to export at a moment's notice."

The kings blinked, looking at each other slowly before back to the young couple. "It's a hell of a risk," Phillip commented. "If shit falls through with you two, then Canada is screwed."

"No need to worry about that," he assured them. "This marriage is happening."

"Hm," Terrance mused, putting his chin in his palm and raising his brow. "And what if you find your true soulmate, Kyle? You'll die and Larnion will most likely fall."

Kendra cocked her brow and looked down as Kyle tensed around her fingers. The prince recovered quickly and took a steadying breath, "Perhaps Kendra _is_ my soulmate and I just don't know it," he said smoothly. "Either way, what matters is our people. Elves _and_ humans," he gestured between himself and the princess with his free hand. "My Kings, I implore you, don't tread water. Move forward with Larnion. Realize that only through _progression_ can the Drows of Canada wish to make any headway."

The Canadians looked at each other again and sighed, nodding subtly to one another and chuckling. "Well," Phillip said amusedly. "You certainly made your point quicker than either of your parents ever have, Kyle."

Terrance winked at him, "You'll be a great king one day. Hopefully she can keep up with you," he joked, pointing at the princess.

"She's a great listener, she'll catch on to our ways faster than even you can, I'm sure," he teased.

Terrance snorted, "Very well. Send your parents back in and we'll draw up a contract. I just hope that you don't disappoint, Your Highness."

Kyle got to his feet, bringing Kendra up with him. "Wouldn't dream of disappointing you, Your Majesties," he said sweetly, bowing and Kendra curtseying. The kings nodded and waved them away, the two of them walking still hand in hand out the door with Stan following close behind, staring daggers at their conjoined palms.

They stepped into the corridor and Sheila and Gerald looked from the window bench they were seated upon, finding the prince and princess' hands still linked and blinking in surprise. "Did they get upset with you?" Sheila asked worriedly.

Kyle shook his head, "They're waiting for you to draw up a contract. They're in."

"Bubbeleh!" she exclaimed proudly, grasping his face and leaning him down to kiss his forehead. "I'm so proud of you!" She looked up at Kendra, grabbing her cheeks and bending her forward to do the same. "Both of you, I'm so proud," she repeated. Kendra gulped and blushed at the unfamiliar praise, feeling Kyle's hand tighten around her own and taking some comfort in the shared embarrassment.

Gerald patted both their shoulders, brown eyes beaming. "Excellent job, you two. Why don't you get some lunch and we'll meet up later?" he suggested, heading in with Sheila back to the room and shutting the door quietly behind them.

The two of them watched after them before looking at each other and smiling. The sudden realization of their fingers still intertwined slammed into both of them like boulders, eyes widening as they slowly unhooked themselves and awkwardly continued to stare. "Uh..." Kyle started. "Good...good work," he nodded curtly, gulping nervously.

She cocked her brow and pointed at him and to the door before pointing at herself and shaking her head.

Kyle's face dropped, "You _did_ help," he protested. She and Stan both jerked back subtly in shock at his immediate understanding. "What you said got me rolling," he winced, not noticing the reaction. "We keep that shit up and we'll have _all_ the lands either adoring us or avoiding us for being so brutal," he smirked crookedly.

Kendra stayed still for a few moments before her face broke into a wide smile, eyes gleaming with glee at the connotation. She nodded briskly and laughed, pushing some fallen strands of hair back under her new tiara. She pointed to the both of them yet again, making an eating gesture and Kyle smiled.

"Yeah, let's get some food," he agreed. He walked up beside her and looked back at Stan. "You hungry, Stan?"

"Sure," he grumbled. Kyle blinked at his attitude before shaking his head and sighing, setting off with Kendra towards the dining hall. Stan's little mood could wait until they were alone later, not really wanting to potentially start a war in front of the princess. He flickered his eyes up towards her, blinking as he met her staring right back at him. They both chuckled awkwardly, straightening themselves back to watch down the hallway side-by-side, meeting another stare down the way into their future.


	11. Saccharine Confines

The prince watched from his bed with a cocked head as Stan genially paced about the floor, looking at the ceiling and lost in thought. The redhead narrowed his eyes. He'd been like this all fucking day, and Kyle was _beyond_ tired of it. The elf sighed, putting a marker in his book and setting it off to his side, crossing his arms and leaning back against his headboard. "Stan, talk to me," he said quietly.

"About what, Your Highness?" he looked at him and blinked in slight shock at the sudden noise.

He gestured towards him with a limber hand. "This whole thing," he said. "What on Earth has gotten into you?"

"Nothing," he bit his lip, a visible gulp receding down his throat.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Stan, are you fucking _forgetting_ who I am? I'm not fucking blind, you know."

Stan stared back at him, heart aching. It was true, Kyle could read him better than anyone else ever could. They'd been three when they'd met, but even then the two of them knew the ins and outs of one another's personalities within hours. Kyle was always the first to catch when Stan was upset, when something had elated him. Hell, he knew when Stan was sick before the ranger himself could even tell, and he'd always returned the favor with the young prince. Except, it seemed, for this one matter. Every ounce of emotion displayed plainly on Stan's face was one that Kyle couldn't seem to get a grasp on. He looked so hurt, so upset, and just a tinge of anger lingering deep within those darkened blue eyes. It was nothing short of maddening.

"Nothing is wrong, Kyle," he assured him.

"You're so full of it," he scoffed. "Come on, Stan. Don't make me get all princely with you."

He cocked his brow in slight amusement. "Princely?"

"Don't make me," he repeated in warning.

Stan chuckled, "What do you think _that's_ going to accomplish?"

Kyle sighed tiredly, not exactly willing to practice such a method against a trusted friend, but sometimes things just called for it. He grunted with effort as he swung his legs out of his bed, smacking his lips before stiffening and walking towards the staring guard. He put his hand on Stan's shoulder and pushed him down, Stan dropping to one knee automatically and raising his brow at the redhead. Kyle folded his hands in front of him, the noirette nearly backing up as a stern look crossed over his face. "Your duty is to me," he reminded him thickly.

"Right," he nodded slowly.

"As my protector, you are obligated to keep me informed of _all_ ailments that could put you in a position that would possibly jeopardize my safety," he cocked his brow superiorly. "Feelings included." Stan gulped, cursing to himself. The prince certainly wasn't wrong.

He stared into those firm green eyes, letting a hot breath pass his lips. "My Prince, your safety is never in jeopardy with me," he promised.

"May I _remind you_ that I am the one who makes that determination," he said sharply. "Either you have a conversation with me regarding the matter, or I put you on indefinite suspension, Ranger. Make your choice."

Stan's shoulders slumped, the _notion_ of being put out of duty an absolute terror. He couldn't keep Kyle protected if he was supposed to keep away from him and let someone else handle his needs. No one else _could_. No one knew how Kyle operated; How he was private to a fault. No one else would be able to understand where to stand out of view while he bathed or dressed. No other guard would know of Kyle's 'four foot rule' when it came to conversing with others. Another ranger wouldn't understand the simple looks that the Drow gave that told them to step back further to engage in private conversation not meant for ears not of royal decree. He _couldn't_ let that happen.

He bit his lip and gulped, eyes faltering to the floor. "I don't trust her," he murmured.

Kyle cocked his head, "Who?"

"The princess. I...I don't trust her," he said through gritted teeth, forcing pained tears out of his eyes.

Kyle stared down at him, mind whirring at the declaration. "Why not?"

He looked up at him and bit his lip at the concern overtaking the domineering persona that Kyle could slip in and out of like a cloak. "She doesn't know the ways of the Drows."

"Well that's what her lessons are fo-"

"She doesn't know _you_ ," he interjected pleadingly. Kyle paused, mouth slowly slipping closed as Stan swallowed a dry breath. "Your Highness, she can _never_ know how you are; How you _truly_ are. She only knows this side of you, not the Kyle side."

He smiled sadly, "Stan, we'll get to know each other soon enough. She seems kind and willing to learn. She'll catch on to not only our people, but myself within time."

"How can you be sure?" he challenged. "What if you have to spend the rest of your life...just...sitting there unwillingly holding the hand of a false lover whom you only care about during business meetings?" he begged.

Kyle blinked down at him, "Stan, you act as though we're at each other's throats. We get along just fine. If anything, we can at least be friends," he shrugged. "She seems to be someone I can at least engage in conversation with...for a lack of better term," he winced embarrassedly.

"But is that _really_ what you want?" he stressed.

He sighed, "Stan, what I want doesn't _matter_. What matters now is the kingdom."

"It **should** matter," he argued quietly.

He shrugged, "That's not how it works when you're royalty. I don't always get to choose what happens in my life."

The ranger bit his lip. "I hate seeing you in this position, Kyle..." he paused and took a deep breath. "If you _did_ have a choice, what would you do?"

The elf stared down at him, taking a long, sturdy breath. There were a lot of options if he did have free range... He gave him another somber smile and shrugged, "Honestly? I'd probably still go through with it." Stan's mouth gaped and he held up his hand to stop his retort. "Stan, that's what we _do_ ," he reminded him. "When your options are between yourself and your people, you default to your people. You of _all_ others should understand," he reminded him. "If you had free choice in the matter, would you choose your life or mine?"

"Yours," he whispered.

"See? We _all_ make sacrifices to those we want to protect. I want to protect my people from floundering and failing as a race. You want to protect me from dying. It takes people like us to keep the world from coming to a stop," he winced.

He took a deep breath and nodded slowly, eyes darkened with the facts being thrown in his face. "I just want you to be happy."

"I _am_ happy...To an extent," he shrugged. "I have my family. I have an arranged marriage with someone that I at least don't hate with a passion...And I have you," he said softly, a graceful hand cusping the side of Stan's head, the ranger looking up at him pathetically. "Just because I won't get my perfect 'ever after' doesn't mean that I can't still be happy along the way."

The noirette nodded subtly. "Still, watching you...grab her hand when you didn't want to..." he trailed off.

Kyle's eyes lit in realization at the reiteration, lips forming a coy smile. "You're _jealous_ ," he deduced.

Stan's face lit up rosily, "N-no. I just think that-"

"You lying sack of shit," he teased. "You're just jealous someone else gets to touch me at all."

"No!" he insisted.

Kyle snorted and rolled his eyes, reaching down and cupping his cheeks, bringing him back up onto his feet. "Oh, Stan," he shook his head, leaning him down and pressing their lips together, sliding his hand up through his hair. Stan's heart fluttered, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him in tightly. Their tongues slid along one another's until Kyle backed up, twisting a lock of hair from under Stan's helmet and smirking at him. "Does it really upset you so much that I held her hand?"

He blushed, "No," he repeated, his tone not even convincing to _himself_ , let alone the always-sharp prince.

Kyle kissed him briskly once more and sighed, "Stan, what have I told you is my _true_ job?"

He smirked sadly, "Being an actor."

"Right," he nodded, kissing his cheek and down his neck, warm lips dancing along the ranger's skin. Fingers tightened around his waist and he smiled pleasantly at the pressure. "Sometimes a bit of a show is called for," he purred, leading Stan backwards towards the bed. He nipped lightly under his ear, feeling Stan's breath shakily leaking onto his neck. "But I can assure you," he said in a husky voice pressed against him, fingers trailing down and hitting Stan's pant line, shoving them down in a quick snap that made Stan lose his breath entirely. "I will _never_ crave her skin as much as yours," he whispered, pushing him back onto the bed. Stan blinked as Kyle crawled overtop of him, pressing their lips together yet again and guiding him to sit back against the headboard, working his pants and boots off all the way along the mattress.

"What are you doing?" Stan chuckled almost nervously, freezing with excitement as the back of Kyle's slender fingers brushed so lovingly over his stiffening cock.

Kyle paused, kissing his chin. "Not acting," he finally answered, moving himself down to lie between Stan's legs. The ranger watched him with wide eyes, not used to this positioning in the least.

Kyle's hands wormed up to grasp lightly around Stan's cock, taking a moment to appreciate it rising and twitching just for him. His eyes traced over the curve of the pink flesh, smiling warmly at the piece of artwork that so often had given him pleasure. Stan had never allowed this; Had never let Kyle 'degrade' himself for just Stan's enjoyment. He craved it, though. He _yearned_ to let go of who he was outside these walls, be nothing but an object of fantasy for the ranger staring at him in astonishment.

A thin, pink tongue darted out, tracing lightly along the length of the skin. Stan nearly yelped at the foreign touch as Kyle lapped all about. The elf's eyes nearly rolled at the heavy musk beaming from the blazing skin, invading every inch of his senses. He was being filled in a unique way, a way that was nearly as penetrating as their normal routine.

Curiosity swept over him, gliding his taste buds over the clear solution beginning to bead along the head. He took a moment to let it settle along his palate, pleasantly surprised at the sweetened, salty taste dancing along his muscle. He hummed appreciatively, Stan caught on his words. He wanted to tell Kyle no, how he didn't want him to do this in so undignified a manner. But by _god_ how he wanted to beg for him to never stop at the same time.

Every ounce of protest leaked out with a hot mouth closing along the top of his dick, soft suckling against the sensitive nerves turning him into a puddle in the prince's tender hands. He gulped, watching as red curls began bobbing, very slowly working him deeper into his unpracticed mouth. Kyle's pointed ears perked for noise, smiling to himself as Stan unsuccessfully tried to hold in a moan.

His tongue busied itself as he worked, swirling around the head, indulging in more of Stan's precum leaking into his mouth. He moaned softly at the taste, nearly stopping in shock as Stan's thighs twitched with the utterance. A certain feeling invaded his stomach, swelling with a heightened sense of control in the situation. He grinned, popping off the cock for just a moment to Stan's displeasure to spit into his hand and wrapping around the base, bowing his head back down before the slightest speck of cooled air could so much as _think_ of replacing the feeling of his lips.

Stan shuddered at the working duality, Kyle's more than adept hand making up for his lack of experience with his mouth. Any hint of callowness, however, was lost on the ranger, eyes slipping closed and a long groan escaping his lips as Kyle grew just a bit bolder, cheeks hollowing with fervor.

Kyle's entire being was ebbing with excitement. An array of new pleasure was coursing through him that he didn't know was possible. The feeling was almost surreal; He was so in control but being fucked all the same. It was the best of both worlds, something that being a prince _never_ provided him with. Calloused fingers genially wormed into his curls, almost unsure if they should be touching the locks. Kyle's eyes fluttered at the slight tightening against his scalp, giving Stan a loud moan around his cock to encourage him further. Stan gave a soft _'eep'_ , thighs twitching once more around the giddy prince. The fingers tightened just a tad more, the back of Stan's mind consistently reinforcing the clear and simple fact that it was his _prince_ with his head between his legs. A touch of affability needed to be present.

Kyle nearly groaned in disappointment at the lack of more pressure, but found himself drowning far too deeply in Stan's taste to protest. This worked for now. His jaw was cramping, his tongue protesting against the constant movement, trying to rub itself raw against Stan's leaking head. He welcomed the sensation, his own covered cock throbbing hard between his legs and pressing down against the mattress. He'd never wanted to be touched so much, but never wanted more for it to come at a later time. He wanted Stan to finish, he wanted to see the hazy, satisfied look lingering in those blue eyes that so entranced him.

He flickered his gaze up, almost startled to find Stan watching him with that adoring expression, mouth slightly agape as he watched Kyle working. Kyle's body was in complete overdrive at the attention, bowing his head deeper and feeling Stan's cock tickling the very back of his tongue, just enough for him to give a soft gag before pulling up and repeating the motion time and again in time with his stroking hand. Stan gulped, another shaky grunt breaking through his throat. His fingers rubbed against Kyle's scalp, every nerve still torn at watching Kyle in such a derogatory but such an _enchanting_ position. He smiled lazily at Kyle's glowing eyes, seeing the enjoyment cresting through the green like sunlight peaking through maple leaves. He was having fun, so at least the guilt wasn't going to swallow him whole. He jerked as Kyle decided to take place of said guilt, head bobbing down further and his throat convulsing around the head.

The ranger's breathing became sharp and hollow, feeling himself building up to that edge faster than he could keep up with at the unfamiliar and oh-so-satisfying feeling of his prince so eagerly eating up every inch of his dick. "Fuck," he whimpered, seeing Kyle shake at the trembling of his voice. "Aw shit," he leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, chest heaving under his armor. "Kyle...Kyle..." he breathed out desperately.

The redhead was practically dancing inside, the tone of his voice a meek _demand_ in his ears. He picked up his pace, wanting to see Stan's reactions, hear his labored breathing, _feel_ how much he was wanted. Stan's entire body was tensing, Kyle's mouth ready and waiting for him to uncoil.

"Shit," he repeated. "I'm...I'm gonna..." he tried pulling Kyle's head off, the stubborn elf remaining firmly planted in his positioning and batting off Stan with his free hand as he continued on with focus. Stan's head flew back, a long hiss whizzing through his teeth as his hips arched up, every bit of pleasure toppling him over in its entirety. Kyle moaned as a hot stream of thick substance began to spurt down his throat, coating his mouth. He closed his eyes and continued working him through his orgasm, relishing in the feeling of his air being blocked off, _drowning_ in every ounce of Stan escaping inside of him. He was the vessel through which Stan passed into pleasure. He was _the_ object that he focused on. And it was driving him absolutely _crazy_.

Stan was gasping for air as he unloaded into the hot, slick basin. He could feel Kyle ardently attempting to get every bit of him as his tainted tongue continued to swipe about as his hips finally fell back into place, entire body trembling upon its descent. He could feel Kyle gulping around him, searching for any lost droplets and his legs tensing in their sensitivity, unwilling to let Kyle off of his cock. The redhead noticed, however and he almost pouted before wrapping his lips tightly around the softening base and sliding himself up, pulling off of the skin with a loud _pop_. He tongued over his lips, looking up at the panting ranger and smiling satisfactorily, mouth alive with the heavy taste now completely overtaking his palate. He shifted, his burning dick demanding his attention but far too focused on Stan's next words to give it the touch it so desperately desired.

The noirette looked back at him, eyes glittering with intrigue and a tired smile over his lips. "Wow."

Kyle snorted, batting his lashes flirtatiously. "Really? Is that all you have to say?" he teased.

"Where the _fuck_ did you learn to do that?" he grinned.

The prince smirked, "That's for _me_ to know." No need to inform the ranger of his secret practice with zucchini over the years before he could finally get the balls to go through with it. Stan would probably never let him live it down, though that notion in of itself didn't seem to sound too awful. He slowly leaned himself up, not noticing until then just how cramped his muscles were, how stiff his neck felt. It was _nothing_ compared to the pure ache between his thighs, however.

He moved to straddle Stan's lap and wrap his arms around his neck, kissing him deeply, letting him feel the wonderful taste that he'd so generously shared. Stan moaned softly, Kyle's hand grabbing his own, leading it down his waist and rounding his hip, pressing him against his bulge. "Stan..." he whispered. "Please."

"Please what?" he teased, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"Help me out here," he whined, humping against his hand. Stan chuckled, lovingly sliding up his body once more and grasping at Kyle from behind his shoulder blades, genially guiding him onto his back. He was everything that Kyle had not been; Graceful and careful, loving and soft. The need in his deep eyes was replaced with an adoration that brought an embarrassed smile to Kyle's face as he was undressed with cloying fingertips.

Another kiss stole his breath, lashes fluttering against Stan's still-flushed cheeks. A hot breath of nearly silent words pushed against his throat, clasping around and constricting his air yet again in not so pleasant a way as he'd just experienced. "As you wish, My Prince."


	12. A Niggling Comfort

Craig Tucker had never been one for the royalty scene. The only reason he'd even _considered_ joining their rankings was getting caught trying to swipe another round of coins from Kupa Keep's treasury. He was given two options: Put his skills to some good use, or lose his head. He was rather fond of keeping said head, so he'd reluctantly bent to the prince's whim. He'd been thrown into the guard's training at 14, causing nothing but mayhem for the Captain all along the way. Being raised within rogue society did little to aid in the means of the strict core values of a guard, and he consistently found himself butting heads with other members of his line.

Kupa Keep, as he'd learned, was not horrifically different from his previous home within the barren outlands between it and Larnion. Disputes were never settled civilly, even within the royal guard. You _fought_ for your opinion to be considered correct. Should one claim that the sky was purple, so long as they took down anyone who opposed them, it rang clear as fact. He'd become an expert in winning such petty arguments, more often than not coming up with outlandish theories just for the pure thrill of slamming his training sword into a fellow soldier's face.

As he glanced out the window down towards the training grounds of the Larnions, he felt as though he were in a completely new world. They were _kind_ and attentive to each other. The captain seemed to be like a gruff father; Just a tad on the stern side but with a geniality in his voice as he called out directives. Craig shook his head slowly, watching a round of archers take up their bows and quickly fire off an assault of three arrows each at multiple targets. It was impressive to say the least, but then again there was little to be surprised over. Kupa Keep's army was skilled in the brute strength of the sword, they were taught to be sturdy and hardy as they rushed out to battle. The elves were much more practiced by means of distance. Arrows and magics were their default methodologies, the lot of them able to take down an army without a single one of them making physical contact with an enemy. Many of them were trained with their swords for the purpose of a battle within the kingdom where the risk of long-range assaults ailing citizens was so prolific. But more often than not, they were left behind in the long run.

Craig had wondered for _years_ just how Kupa Keep would defend themselves should the elves take up the decision to come after them, to avenge their Forest or their ancestors or whatever it was that elves would fight for. He'd heard stories from many a soldier of the Great War, how humans and elves alike were slain, blood coursing down over blades of grass and co-mingling to the point where one couldn't tell what species it'd spurned from. According to the old timers, the sky was always blackened with arrows, and the land gleamed silver from the barrage of sword. It was chaos; Pure, unadulterated chaos. It'd come to a point where neither side knew exactly where the war began and ended, only coming to a halt when the King of Larnion at the time had warned the Kupa Keep monarchy to call off their army, lest the elves harness the might of The Stick now in their possession.

Beckoning the army back had apparently resulted in a mutiny and usurp of the throne, making way for the prominent family of the Cartmans to settle themselves oh-so-nicely within the palace walls. While those of Craig's generation and the one before cared little of the elves existing so 'close' to their borders so long as they stayed distant, and figured the older king had made the right call considering the circumstances, the elder generation who'd lived through the war felt nothing but a deep-seated _hatred_. Propaganda was all it was, various stories of elves targeting humans, turning them into trees. They'd become a horror story to keep children in their beds at night, to keep them in line. Various elves throughout the years had been captured and tried, nothing more than witch hunts against innocent travelers who'd done nothing but wandered just a bit too close to the human's lands.

Craig twisted his lips, turning from the window to look into the library at Kyle and Kendra sitting together with yet another book. He narrowed his eyes slightly, watching as Kyle told an animated story, awkwardly stumbling over words and flailing his hands around while the princess laughed and nodded him along.

"If you could stop _glaring_ at my prince, it'd be much appreciated," a sharp voice poked through the air.

He turned to Stan across the table from him, catching a warning resonating within those indigo eyes. He let a few beats of silence pass between them before the cooled, dry retort left his lips, "How about you extend the same courtesy to the princess, then?"

Stan blinked, an offended tone overshadowing his face, "I _do_ treat the princess with respect, you fuck."

"Oh? Because all I see is you making angry faces at her," he said, smacking his lips and leaning back in his chair, studying the tense stance of his opposite. "At least, when the prince is around her."

He scoffed, "I'm not too fond of His Highness being forced to do things he doesn't want to do."

Craig shrugged dismissively, "He seems to be taking it better than you."

The ranger straightened up, brow knitting together. "He's an _excellent_ actor," he said coldly. "That's how royalty _should_ be."

"Oh? He's _acting_ like a bumbling idiot?" he cocked his brow.

" _Watch it,_ " he warned lowly.

Craig rolled his eyes, glancing back to the prince and princess, watching as Kyle read over a note from Kendra and blushed, sputtering something in reply as she laughed and winked. A long breath left his nose and he shook his head subtly. Really, he couldn't care less about the possibilities of their union, and the concept barely fazed him in the slightest. But something about how the two of them interacted was just driving him crazy. They seemed to be almost _too_ awkward with one another considering just what a driving force they were supposed to start becoming.

Butters had excitedly ran up to him days ago, telling him in far too fast a manner how they'd managed to coerce a trade all on their own. The paladin was beside himself with glee, ranting on and on about how 'wonderful' an idea the king had set into play. That the two of them would be 'the best gosh darn royal couple ever'. But Craig just didn't see it. All he saw was a silent girl cracking jokes and a bashful elf getting all up in a tizzy and almost trying to hide. Neither of them were obviously too happy with the union, they were merely _tolerating_ it. Craig certainly wasn't the authority on how royalty operated, but it just seemed as though the two of them together had a possibility to spell disaster for both sides of the species.

"So why did you become a royal guard?" Stan's voice reappeared, Craig glancing over to see him watching him skeptically. "Rogues usually stay far from the palace unless they're there to _steal_ ," an accusatory tone flew past his teeth.

He rolled his silver eyes and scoffed. "It was either that or be fucking executed. Turns out I like the pay," he shrugged, leaning back and swinging his legs onto the table, Stan watching in distaste. Craig crossed his legs and bounced his top foot, smacking his lips unenthusiastically. "What about you?"

"I want to protect him," he said firmly.

Craig let his eyes sliver onto the small redhead before back onto the ranger and his awkward stance, a knowing smirk crawling up the edge of his lips. "Ah. A matter of heart, hm?"

Stan went rigid for a moment, "Excuse me?"

" _That_ explains it," he snorted. "You don't like the princess because she's taking him away from you," he cocked a superior brow. "Isn't that rule number one? Don't fall in love with your protected?"

Stan's pupils were pinpoints, rose beginning to dust over his cheeks like a thick layer of flour. He sputtered a few times, looking between him and the royal couple. "I'm not in love with-"

"Please," he cut off in a huff. "You know why rogues are so damn good at what they do?" he questioned, Stan blinking in confusion. "Because emotion is fucking how you read who you can steal from. Can't go after the nervous, paranoid ones, they'll be too on alert. Can't go after the angry ones, they're the most dangerous. You go for the nonchalant, relaxed demeanor who would brush off a pickpocket as someone just bumped against them on accident. And you? I wouldn't take a fucking _coin_ from you as fucking jittery as you are."

Stan scowled, gritting his teeth. "I am _not_ jittery."

"I would know," he rolled his eyes. "I have someone back home who's nothing but a fucking bucket of nervous energy."

The ranger backed up and looked at him skeptically. "You? _You_ have someone back home?"

He shrugged, taking a sip of tea from beside him and sighing tiredly. "Met him when I was being forced through training. Kinda just happened." Stan pouted to himself. Great. This asshole could snag someone but he himself would be damned if he so much as tried. Craig continued, "Besides, he's a barbarian, not a prince."

Stan blinked, "A jittery barbarian?"

He snorted and nodded, "That's _why_ he's one. He isn't methodical. If it startles him, he'll attack it to get it away from him. He's come after me a few times and won't settle down until he knows for sure that it's me."

"Wow. Sounds like a handful."

"Not as much as a prissy prince who's engaged. Much less an _elf_ ," he countered smartly, tapping the heel of his leather boot against the table and watching Stan sinking despondently. They both looked over to see the two of their rulers laughing with each other, Kyle ranting about the utterly useless Drow faction of Scottsdale. "Best give up now," Craig advised. "It'll be a _long_ life if you're standing there their whole reign just angrily glaring at Princess Kendra..." he paused, looking at him snarkily, "Well. Soon-to-be _Queen_ Kendra."

"Not that soon," he hissed sharply. "King Gerald and Queen Sheila still have a lot of life left in them."

He shrugged. "True," he mused. "But either way, they'll be married in less than six months. And at that point, you're screwed, Ranger."

"You know _nothing_ , Rogue," he spat back defiantly, matching his position, the both of them leaning back in their chairs and staring at each other stubbornly. "I'm sure the queen will come to her senses and realize that this union is nothing more than a waste of everyone's time."

"After the progress they made with the Canadians?" he reminded him, watching Stan's shoulders slump. "Yeah. I'm sure she's just _kicking_ herself," he scoffed. "Bringing in money, strengthening a communal bond? God, they're _destroying_ the monarchy, aren't they?"

Blue eyes flickered down onto his legs, a long breath flowing through his nose. "Fuck off," he muttered. "What matters is my prince's happiness."

Craig glanced back at the two laughing royals and shrugged dismissively. "He seems happy enough to me."

"You don't _know_ him," he spat. "Just as _she_ doesn't. He's only doing this for the progression of his people. He's _suffering_ for the good of the Drow."

He rolled his eyes. "Your prince isn't a fucking martyr. He's royalty and doing what he's _supposed_ to do. Stop putting him on a pedestal. Everyone knows that the princess isn't doing this for the people, she's doing it because the higher-up _ordered it_. Just as your prince is," he waved dismissively towards the elf.

"And that proves my point," he said exhaustively. "You just don't know him like I do. You people never could."

Craig hitched his brow, "You're human, too, in case you're forgetting."

"Not in this society I'm not," he crossed his arms firmly. "If you're raised with the elves, you _are_ an elf. The princess will _never_ be as equally regarded as I am."

"So, the Drow are a bunch of racists is what you're telling me," he said dryly.

Stan glared, "Should the prince had been forced to live in Kupa Keep under this arrangement, he already would've had attempts against his life made. _That's_ where the difference lies. Elves will gossip, but humans will slaughter."

The rogue paused. Okay. He had a point. Humans were escorted out of elven land with a warning, _maybe_ kept humanely as a prisoner for a few days to interrogate over possible ambushes. Elves that crossed into Kupa Keep were grabbed and thrown into prison to be tortured until death. It was practically just regarded as a staple in their society, and one that few people ever questioned. It 'prevented the possibilities', after all. Couldn't have the mere _possibility_ of an elf causing some mayhem within their kingdom. Better safe than sorry and all that. "True," he agreed quietly.

"So you _really_ find it so hard to understand that I don't feel comfortable with this decision, _regardless_ of the fact that it's Prince Kyle caught in the crossfire?" Stan asked sternly.

"No, I suppose not," he smacked his lips and shrugged. "But he's paired up with fucking _Princess Kendra_ , okay?" he reminded him dryly. "The worst she does is make a scathing joke or glare at you. Stop acting like he's being forced to marry King Fatass."

Stan shuddered at the thought, bile rising in his chest. The mere _idea_ was absolutely terrifying. Kyle would sooner kill him _self_ than let Cartman have his hands on him, making sure he was nothing but a pretty little figurehead pressed under his thumb. Stan slumped. At least with Kendra, Kyle was treated fairly and kept at home. Here, he was safe. He was still the domineering royal figure between the both of them, regardless of his willingness to involve the blonde in the ever-roaring events of politics. At least in this scenario, his years of exhaustive training wouldn't be thrown to the wayside for him to merely sit there silently and watch person after person suffer by hands of his betrothed without being allowed to give so much as a question. Kyle had been right. At least with Kendra, he had the chance of friendship at the very least, and the notion seemed to bring the redhead some amount of comfort. Stan just wished that he could follow such a mentality himself.

"I still hate it," he finally replied almost silently.

"Well, get used to it," Craig said bluntly. "They're getting married, and you and I are stuck here with them throughout their damn reign. No one has any kind of say in it, let alone a damn guard. Just take some goddamn comfort in the fact that he's not with an abusive fuckwit like the king."

Stan glanced at him before back to his prince, heart sinking as he watched him reading a message from Kendra and scoffing, balling it up and throwing it at her as she laughed and bumped their shoulders together. She lingered against him longer than necessary in Stan's eyes, the ranger easily catching the fluster growing on Kyle's cheeks. He shook his head and stared blankly at them, teeth grinding against the inside of his lip. Such a casual air coming from the blonde, so _easily_ she was touching him, _flirting_ with it. She was trying to procure the young prince's favor, and Stan could tell from years of reading Kyle like a book: He was falling right for it.

Take comfort. Right.


	13. The Breath of Uoi'Nota

The lands of Uoi'nota were nothing special, at least, not to the dark elves. Nothing but a spiraling forest of strangler figs dancing over rocks and each other in gnarled, twisted messes of roots and branches. It was easy enough to draw energy from their standings, an elf unable to take but a single step without running into a branch. Uoi'nota's forests were enveloped in a constant cloak of darkness, heavy leaves kept secured to their branches by a steady stream of magic that the dark elves, the _Olath_ , gave them in return for their own healing properties.

Damien had always found his home to be one of fascination, unable to ever claim the power of every single tree within his path. Most days were spent lazily lounging within the spiraling bark, cradled within the essence of what gave him such power. It was perhaps considered a humdrum existence, living outside the hustle and bustle of humans and the ' _pureness'_ of their light counterparts within the lands of various _Ssussun_ clans. For the Olath, it was a consideration that rang with truth. Shoved out of society and pressed down into the confines of Uoi'nota by the Drows of the past, his own kind had spread to their own sects within their forests. There was plenty enough to share, but that didn't particularly mean that one _had_ to do so, and, more often than not, the option was omitted.

The motto of their clan was clear enough: ' _Whol Uss' Ehmtu Wun isto Udos Naerden';_ 'For One's Own in Night We Breathe'. That was the goal; To _survive_. Being cast out of the Drow clans had resulted in far too much anger, too many opportunities to use their dark magics against those who were supposed to be regarded as brethren. Trying to keep an allegiance alongside one another had lasted perhaps a fortnight before the decision was made for those whom still remained to spread out across the forests and stick to themselves.

The rules had been made simple: You got one warning. Were you in someone's claimed section of woods and they caught you, you were allotted one time of being informed to move along through, after that, your fate was left up to the elf whose authority you challenged. Damien certainly enjoyed that rule, often finding himself with a stubborn little bastard running about his lot, using them as practice to hone his skills. It was almost a shame how well he'd been able to craft his talents, word spreading through the few networks the Olath had to steer clear of him, that he was becoming _far_ too dangerous. A boost to the ego and a desecration of his entertainment all at once; His greatest conundrum.

However, even he had to admit that simply doing away with his own kind was becoming rather... _tiresome_. There was no sport, there was little glory but procuring the unfortunate's lands. Damien yearned for _more_. There was just so _much_ outside of Uoi'nota, so many kingdoms and desolate plains. An abundance of lush forests, raging waters, arid deserts and perilous tundras. It was all just waiting outside just for him to see, to breathe in the salted air of the seas, to take in the essence of different life throughout the world, _to get his hands on the Drow._

Damien's lips curled up as he lied in a dipping branch, hand swaying underneath of him as he lent a touch of his magic to it, feeling it growing stronger under his pittance. So few notions over the years had kept his interest until he'd heard of what the Drow had done to his people so far in the past. Then it was nothing but a spark of curiosity at the youthful age of ten, wandering out of the allowances that his father had lied out for him and making his way through the night, traveling within the winds and finding himself on the outskirts of the ruins of Evergreen. He'd been so disappointed at finding nothing but a world of filthy _humans_. He knew about them already, he didn't care of their existence, it wasn't as though _they_ posed any kind of threat. The Drow, however, _did_.

He'd lucked out, finding one as he snuck through the extirpated kingdom concealed under a cloak, a scarf wrapped around his mouth to hide his fangs which he'd yet to grow into at the time. He found himself wandering towards the outermost grounds, finding a group of humans teasing and tormenting a young Drow who'd wandered too far from their own sect of land. The little elf had been scared and furious all the same, Damien catching a vengeful gleam set deep in grey eyes. He'd watched, grinning under his concealment as the elf's hand began to glow purple, holding it towards the group of bullies. Roots from surrounding trees sprang from the ground, wrapping around the lot and ripping them back. Damien had nearly bounced in excitement, hearing the terrified shrieks and shivering to himself. It was a _masterpiece_.

He'd watched the Drow turn on her heel and walk away, breaking into a sudden run as her father came in search for her from beyond the forest, eyes gleaming with worry and relief as she ran into his arms. Damien could remember the _happiness_ exuded from both parties as the man ran off to protect his daughter from possible consequences of attacking humans, staring after them for a good while and marveling at the uprooted mess now jutting from the ground. The humans had been dropped as her connection was taken farther away, scurrying back into the city with their pathetic tails between their legs, shouting that the 'evil' elves had assaulted them.

Damien chuckled at the fond memory, remembering just how much he'd wanted to jump from the shadows, remind them that there were _actual_ evil elves, and they'd be fools to make a mistake between the two. Instead he'd vied to travel back home, ignoring the angry rants of his father and instead thinking of those roots, how easily they had been severed from the ground under the Drow's hand. He couldn't help but wonder just how many roots he himself could tear, and just what it would take to completely upend the legacy of the Drow, placing his own kind back into the limelight where they belonged.

"Eef I did not know you any better, I would z'hink you were daydreaming, Damien." A voice ladened with annoyance dripped up and settled on him like a musty cloud.

He looked down, finding himself staring at a mussed-up brunette with an impatient cock in his brow. He broke into a grin, "Well, well, Christophe. Long time no see."

The elf's lip twitched into a crooked smirk, arms crossed lazily. He shrugged dismissively. "What can I say? Z'here was much to do wiz my last mission. Many 'eads to find, you know 'ow eet eez."

"Hm," he mused, hitching an amused brow, "Indeed I do. And how were your fares?"

"Psch," he rolled his eyes, leaning against one of Damien's trees and kicking the heel of his boot into the ground, crushing down a small divot of dirt. "Z'here eez no reason I should 'ave gone z'here. Noz'hing but barren lands and but a 'andful of 'umans to take down. Got noz'hing but a few fucking coins," he spit off to the side and sighed.

"Well, I _do_ hope you were well compensated," he chuckled at the frustration in the mercenary's tone.

Christophe shrugged, "Decently enough. Now, you 'ad somez'hing to keep me occupied?" he cocked his brow amusedly. "I _do_ 'ope you remember z'hat my time eez valuable."

He broke into a wicked grin, swinging around and off his branch, gracefully swooping down in front of him like a stream of smoke from a doused candle. He'd always liked the elf before him, so _very_ willing to do whatever got him paid in the end. He didn't play sides, and he didn't ask _too_ many questions. He just did his job and found another assignment. It was _definitely_ Damien's style. Christophe stared at him, not flinching from the devious gleam sparking through those red eyes or the way that Damien's body moved as though it were part of the wind itself. "Trust me, this is _more_ than worth your valuable time," he purred.

"Oh?" he smirked, watching him expectantly. "You seem arrogant. We all know z'hat you are, but ze arrogant ones are ze worst to work for."

"How so?"

He brushed his hair back, "You z'hink z'hat you are infallible, and believe z'hat eet passes to me."

Damien snorted, "Trust me, I _know_ that you're not _nearly_ as powerful as myself. However, how would you _like_ to be?" he purred.

Christophe looked at him skeptically, "And just 'ow do you plan to do z'hat?"

He shrugged casually, "How well do you know Larnion, Christophe?"

He blinked, "Fairly well. I 'ave been z'here a few times 'ere and z'here. 'ighly dangerous. 'ighly _pricey_ to send me," he emphasized, raising his brows.

The noirette waved him off, "Yes, yes, you'll be paid. Now, what do you know of the royal family?"

"Ze Broflovskis?" he questioned, getting a nod. He smacked his lips, "King and queen, two sons, one of blood, one a 'uman adoption. Well liked, very respected. Z'hey 'ost ze most powerful Drow kingdom..." He paused, narrowing his eyes, "Why?"

"Okay, let me be more specific," Damien chuckled, sensing the impatience once more building in his muscled friend. "How much do you know of the elder son?"

Christophe looked up in thought, lips moving on their own as he worked through his extensive knowledge of the different kingdoms. "Name eez Kyle. 'e eez...eighteen," he started slowly. "Red 'air, very intelligent. Very sickly, or at least 'e used to be," he shrugged before his face fell into a frown. "I will not assassinate royalty," he reminded him sharply. "Too much risk."

"Come now," he purred, waving off the notion. "I wouldn't waste his pretty little head in such a horrid way." Christophe blinked at him and he chuckled, voice reverberating around the figs in a dark embrace. "No, no, quite the contrary. This isn't one of your bloodied missions. This is one of pure observation...At least for now," he quirked his brow.

"Observation," he repeated, tapping his finger against his arm. "Of Kyle?" He nodded, lips parting in a smile and his fangs gleaming like pearls in the low lighting. Damien flicked his hand up, revealing his portal showing Kyle sitting beside Stan reading a book, looking bored out of his mind and smacking his lips tiredly. "So you can already observe 'im," the mercenary scoffed. "Why would you need me?"

"Because I need you to be _close_ to him," he drawled, eyes lingering over the way the sunlight danced so musically about ember curls from beyond the portal, wondering just how deeply light could penetrate into the thick nest. "Because you need to help me down the line."

"Wiz?" he questioned tiredly.

He flickered his eyes over to him for a moment and smirked, "A plan is already set into motion, my friend. And our Little Prince is the key to _finishing_ them."

He looked at the frail redhead, "'ow? Ransom?" His dirty hazel eyes began to shimmer like a backwoods creek at the idea. "I mean...'e could 'ave quite a price."

"Hm, not quite," he said smoothly, huffing a laugh at Christophe's pout. "No, no ransom. But we _are_ taking him."

This was too confusing for the brunette. He'd been involved in far too many jobs to even count anymore, but few of them seemed to hold any kind of intricacy. Kill this, steal that, watch them. His job had always been clear-cut and carried out as such. But now, watching Damien's keen mind whirring from behind those ruby orbs as he hungrily observed the young prince, Christophe felt the essence of bewilderment and interest building within him. "What are we taking 'im for?" he demanded.

A cruel smile crept onto his face, "I need myself a little royal Drow. I just got lucky that it's him that I can use."

"Why not one of ze oz'her royals from anoz'her kingdom?" he asked.

He brushed his bangs out of his eyes nonchalantly, "Because I need one who can handle The Stick," he replied simply.

"Oh no," he shook his head and hands. "I am not getting involved wiz z'hat mess, Damien. Ze Stick eez noz'hing but trouble."

"Well that's why I want it," he rolled his eyes. "But, my friend, think of the possibilities!" he said, excitement bubbling in his tone. "You help me, and I help you. If I harbor The Stick, then I harbor the power," he reminded him cockily. "With power comes riches, which I have no use for. The riches of the Drow will be your payment," his eyes gleamed deviously.

Christophe paused, looking down in thought. The offer was tempting. Almost _too_ tempting. He'd never have to work again with that kind of currency. He could buy the fucking _countries_ if he wanted to. And he wasn't a fool, with the power of The Stick, Damien could definitely make such a feat happen. This wasn't just the wild imaginations of a child they were talking about, this was a _real_ grab at what very well could be their futures. He bit his lip. On the other hand...Working against _royalty_ was a hell of a tall order. It was often hard enough sneaking about for mere peasants. Fixating on a _prince_? It'd be beyond difficult to evade any suspicion. Especially since Christophe happened to know one other vital piece of information about Kyle. "'is ranger," he started slowly. "'e eez constantly vigilant for ze prince's safety. 'e would catch onto me in a heartbeat."

Damien grinned slyly, pressing his fingertips together and looking to see said ranger stealing longing glances at the redhead beside of him, who was innocently unaware of the affection he was being given. "Yes, he _is_ going to be a handful...which is why you're going to infiltrate their guard and earn his trust."

Christophe's eyes widened, "'ave you forgotten z'hat I am an Olath as well?" he hissed, pointing to his own protruding fangs.

"Yes, but you hide your claws, so we can hide your fangs as well," he said simply. "We get you in, you work a little magic that I give you to make the captain believe you are prepared and have him order our little ranger to 'train' you in our dear Little Prince's protection," he smirked. "You have just under six months, maybe even less time to get yourself to a point where the ranger will feel comfortable leaving you alone with him. From there you'll be given your next instruction."

He cocked his head, "Why so specific a time?"

"He is currently courting to marry and join Kupa Keep to Larnion," he replied.

His jaw dropped in the slightest. "A 'uman? Ze prince eez marrying a _'uman_?"

"Scandalous, isn't it?" he chuckled cooly. "Their wedding is going to be within this next fall. We need to get him out of there _before_ it happens," he directed. "The sooner the better."

Christophe bit his lip, "Why, exactly?"

"Let's just say the princess isn't quite what she seems," he smirked.

The brunette decided to leave that little tidbit at that. The princess wasn't his concern, the redhead casually leaning back in his chair and gnawing on his lip was. "Eez 'e ze only one z'hat can 'andle Ze Stick?" he questioned.

"Oh, not the only one," he waved dismissively. "Let's leave it at I have my _own_ reasons for choosing him, hm?" he smiled.

"I _'ighly_ doubt 'e will willingly 'elp you, z'hough," he quirked his brow cockily. "Eef ze stories I've 'eard are true, 'e is far too kind."

He let out a genuine laugh that nearly startled the mercenary, not used to hearing such a foreign sound escape his lips. " _Adorable_ that you think he gets a _choice_ in the matter," he snorted. "Trust me, I have my methods. Little Prince won't know what to do but sit there prettily and let me do my work."

"You will 'ave ze entire army of Larnion after you," he warned. "Perhaps even all ze Drows. Ze Broflovskis are highly regarded, word of 'is disappearance will no doubt bring about z'heir allies."

He shrugged, "Not if we can keep the culprit a secret, hm? Perhaps another Great War will rage in his honor, the Drows believing that the humans took their oh-so-kind prince. The humans are _always_ looking for an excuse to fight after all, especially Kupa Keep's fat sovereign," he rolled his eyes. "And while they battle and kill each other off, I handle the rest, and you get to sit comfortably for the rest of your life, Christophe," he purred. He watched the boy sighing and shifting his weight, resuming bouncing his worn boot against the dirt.

Christophe let out another long sigh through chapped lips, scratching through his dirtied brown hair. "Z'his has a lot of potential to spiral out of our control," he murmured.

"And just as much to make us unstoppable," he countered. "Come now, I thought you were _brave_ ," he taunted. "Don't tell me that Little Prince there has you cowering," he pointed at the slender boy in his vision, Christophe staring at the redhead intently.

He glanced over at Damien, looking his confident position up and down. Arrogant clients _always_ had such a smug air about them, but Damien's seemed to exude down into the forest floor, slithering through and around roots to crawl into his own body. The power that he was offering, the _promise_ of just what could be waiting only a few months down the road from him...

It was too good to pass up.

"Very well," he finally said exhaustively. "I accept. Please note, 'owever, z'hat should z'his plan of yours fall z'hrough, eef I go down, you're going wiz me," he warned.

Damien grinned wider, eyes dancing from the light of the portal beside him. "Oh, Christophe, you know me well enough by now, hm?" The brunette watched him skeptically as he let out a cold chuckle, eyes slivering back to Kyle letting out a long yawn, "I _always_ get what's mine."


	14. To Put it Simply

' _We're getting along fine. Nothing new. -K'_

The message was as the last three had been: Short and to the point, Kendra unwilling to spend any extraneous amount of energy on the fat bastard no doubt lazing about across the lands in his throne. She sighed, rolling her letter and sealing it with a candle wax imprint that Cartman had left her with; Their sigil of the bear stared back at her in embossed red. It was unnervingly fitting for the cruel monarch; An untamable beast made of thick claws and vicious fangs alongside his generous padding. All that mattered was what _he_ wanted: Food and power. Anything that stood in his way was considered a potential enemy, and he wouldn't hesitate to launch a full-frontal assault against them. She twisted her lips and got to her feet, tying the letter off with a ribbon and heading outside of her room. Her blue eyes scanned about, catching a handmaiden bustling and waving to get her attention.

The Drow stopped and blinked, forcing an uneasy smile on her face and walking to the princess, curtseying. "Yes, Your Highness?"

Kendra held out the letter, clasping her hands together in a pleading expression.

The elf stared at her a few moments. "I'm sorry, you want me to...read it?" she winced.

The princess shook her head, pointing to the note and towards the window, thrusting it towards it dramatically time and again as the poor servant stood there baffled.

"She wants you to help her send it," a voice perked up, the girls turning to see Kyle approaching with an awkward smile. Kendra greeted him with a grateful wave and he glanced at the message. "For home?" he asked. She nodded hesitantly and he looked at the embarrassed Drow, "Can you send that down to be placed out on the next message run for Kupa Keep, please?" he requested.

"Of course," she said hurriedly, taking the letter with gentle fingers. "I'm so sorry, Your Highness," she apologized in a fluster to the tall princess.

Kendra smiled gently and shook her head, waving it off. She was _more_ than used to people playing the guessing game with her when she didn't have parchment right on hand. This was one of the quickest exchanges of it she'd had to deal with thanks to the redhead at her side. The servant curtseyed for the both of them and Kyle dismissed her, the royals watching her walk off with her head held down before looking at each other.

He chuckled quietly, "Just a suggestion: Maybe you should start writing your requests _before_ you leave your room. It'll make it a little easier on you."

Kendra blinked. One would think she would've thought of that by now. She nodded sheepishly and brushed stray hairs behind her ear.

Kyle cleared his throat awkwardly and she looked at him once again in curiosity. "So...bit of news," he winced. "If you're not comfortable with the idea, I can _try_ to convince my mother otherwise, but-" he stopped as Kendra grabbed his arm, dragging him behind her back into her bedroom. His face erupted in color as she hauled him over to her desk, grabbing parchment and her quill and beginning to script.

"Your highnesses, this is most inappropriate, m'kay?" A voice called from the doorway, both of them whipping around to find Lord Mackey staring at them with crossed arms and tapping his foot. "Prince Kyle, you should _not_ be in the young lady's room without a chaperone."

"S-she dragged me!" he protested in a sputter, pointing at her accusingly.

Kendra wrote a little note, writing atop: _'Read aloud'._

Kyle blinked, grabbing the message. "'Don't worry, Lord Mackey, give it some time. I wouldn't defile the prince as of...yet'...Fucking shit, Kendra!" he shouted, turning to her nearly falling on her desk in hysterics.

The man frowned disapprovingly at the both of them. "M'kay, Princess, don't ever let the queen hear you talk like that. She won't take it well."

"With the way she's pushing for this fucking marriage she'd probably lock us in a goddamn room herself," Kyle muttered, doing his best to ignore Kendra elbowing him and wriggling her brows tauntingly.

Mackey sighed, "Your Highness, where is Stan? Or Craig for that matter?"

"I dunno about Craig, but I ran off from Stan," he shrugged casually.

"Again?" he sighed irritably, rubbing his temple. "Prince Kyle, you _can't_ go without a guard. Same goes for you, Princess," he directed at her. " _Especially_ considering today's activities."

Kendra narrowed her eyes, tapping Kyle's shoulder and looking at him expectantly. He let out a long sigh, "So...today my mother wants us to go out to the kingdom together," he winced. "Wants me to start dismantling the racism or whatever," he mumbled. Her breath hitched nervously, looking between the two of them staring at her. She gulped, grating her lip. If the rest of the kingdom was as blunt as the Canadian kings, or as uncomfortable as that handmaiden had been...She rubbed her arms sheepishly. Kyle watched her pitiably, placing a hand on her arm. "Look, if you're _that_ uncomfortable, maybe I can convince my mom to give you a few more weeks."

She looked at him for a moment, grabbing her papers and scrawling him an inquiry. _'I trust your judgement, you know your people better than I ever could. What do_ _ **you**_ _think we should do?'_

Kyle looked back at her and gave her a reassuring smile, "Look, I _don't_ know how our people will react to this. I really don't. But I can tell you this much: You're _safe_ ," he emphasized. "We aren't violent or bloodthirsty like I'm _sure_ humans are told," he rolled his eyes. "I think that you should. If only for an hour or so. We get you out there, we let people stop thinking it's merely a rumor, and you can start building yourself from the ground up with them. We have less than five months here to make them happy for our union, every interaction counts."

Kendra took a long breath and nodded slowly. She knew it was true, she knew that the Drow had little to no interest in hunting anyone down unless they'd truly done them wrong. Given, sliding into their monarchy _could_ very well be a bit of a threat to them, but she'd just have to trust Kyle's judgement on this one. This was going to have to come sooner or later, and the sooner the better to give her time to be in the public's eye to ward off the scrutiny. _'All right. If you're sure.'_

"I'm sure, you'll do great," he promised. He turned and looked at the man in the doorway and sighed. "Lord Mackey, can you track down Stan and Craig?"

"Very well," he nodded. "But no funny business, m'kay you two?" he warned.

Kyle scoffed and waved him off. "Yeah, I think we're good. Back off." The lord shook his head, bowing and turning on his heel to find the guards.

The prince jerked at another message, _'So...am I dressed well enough or what?'_

He glanced at her elaborate purple gown, twisting his lips. "Okay, don't get me wrong, it's a nice dress and all...But _not_ the best first impression for Larnions," he winced. She slumped defeatedly before standing up straight and walking to her armoire, grabbing her various gowns in her arms and tossing them on the bed, gesturing at them desperately. He laughed, "Calm down," he coaxed, walking over beside her. "Look, remember that we're not a wealthy kingdom. We have fancy clothes for official business or whatever, but for informal meet-and-greets and whatnot we just wear our more subtle crap. We don't like making the people feel as though they're less than we are," he gestured to his own plain green robes, tight tanned pants, and worn leather boots. She pointed between him, herself, and the dresses again and he nodded in understanding, blinking at the array before him. "Wow. Fatass wanted to make damn sure we knew Kupa Keep was loaded, didn't he?" he murmured, glancing over the embedded jewels cresting each gown. These wouldn't work, not for this. He twisted his lips in thought, looking up at her embarrassed expression, green eyes lighting with inspiration. "I have an idea," he handed her back her paper, grabbing her quill from the desk and bringing it back over. "Write down your shoe size and measurements," he paused as she hitched a saucy brow and rolled his eyes. "Not for _that_. Just fucking do it."

She chuckled, quickly doing as told, folding the message and handing it back, "Okay, hang on," he said, turning on his heel and sprinting out of the room, Kendra watching after him with a cocked head. She heard his footsteps receding down the hallway and sighed to herself, looking at the clothes on her bed and hunching down embarrassedly. What she wouldn't _give_ to just have some fucking pants again. She gathered the ornate clothing and slowly began placing them back in her armoire. So many of these dresses had been gifts from other lands that she'd never even ventured to. After all, so many believed the way to winning a kingdom's favor was by dazzling the lady of the palace. She so rarely cared, never meeting the men and women who sent her such clothing, only busying herself with polite handwritten thanks that Cartman dictated for her. Countless gems sparkled in her blue eyes as she hung them onto the wooden rack, fabric draping down towards the floor of the cabinet in flowing, silky lines.

She'd been doing this for so long, forgetting just how nice it must be to not have a constant goddamn breeze on her legs aside from the few times she'd...Well, that ugly past didn't particularly matter anymore. But how she longed to be able to run around and wrestle constantly like _he_ used to, playing with his older brother and younger sister in the fields behind their parents' home. Kenny closed his eyes, letting himself wander out of Kendra and back into himself for just a brief moment. He allowed the scent of summer to settle over him, the toasty feeling of his skin, the small pain in his back from giving little Karen piggyback rides as they roamed around town trying to find food, the three of them laughing all along the way. He sniffled, letting out a shuddery breath. He supposed that all didn't matter anymore. Royalty didn't dwell in the past, right? Or at least, that's what Cartman had always said. The Drows though...they seemed to be rooted to who they were, what they always had been, even despite himself coming in and fucking up their natural order. He had to admire it in a way, never imagining royalty being so traditional and sentimental. It was like he'd been gently rescued in a mother's arms from the whirlwind of progression into slow baby steps towards the horizon. It was a welcome change, and he was thankful enough that he got to be a part of it.

"You all right?" Kyle's voice popped back up, whirling around to see the redhead staring at her worriedly. "You look really tense...are you sure you wanna do this?"

She nodded briskly, throwing herself back into place and straightening up as he approached her cautiously, almost looking as though he were afraid of startling her. Kendra couldn't help but smile. The little prince was adorable in his own way, a constant mismatch of emotion that she was more than amused by as she followed along. He was a complete enigma to her; so used to the constant brash cruelty that Cartman exuded.

Yet another _more_ than welcome change.

She noticed fabric draped over his arm and simple brown boots held in his hands. He smiled embarrassedly, "Look, if you don't like this idea, that's fine. But, I went to the servant's quarters," he explained, putting the boots down and holding up a long, simple dress of muted brown, an olive scarf dangling off the hip and swaying down to rest over the front like an apron pocket. It was like from the fairy tales she'd read of peasant girls in the woods who longed to be princesses by the end of it all. Amazing how turned that could become in reality. A plain embroidery of pink flowers rested on the corner of the the scarf and she grinned, taking it from his hands and holding it against herself. She nodded briskly and he sighed in relief. "Good. I asked the girls in their housing if anyone matched your measurements. The closest one gave me this and told me to inform you that...it may be a little...uh...baggy in the..." he gestured to his own chest embarrassedly and Kendra held back a snort, nodding.

She grasped the boots before putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him to her desk, pressing him down into her chair. _'Tell me things that I should know before we head out,'_ she wrote for him before walking away from him to behind her dressing screen.

Kyle blushed, keeping his eyes on her shut door. "Uh, well...Not much _to_ know," he said as casually as he could manage as he heard the shuffling of fabric from behind him. "Basically we Larnions come down to this: Simplicity and communication. We're very open with our subjects and when we're down there unofficially, we treat them as though we're merely their neighbors, unless a situation calls for otherwise." Kendra blinked, readjusting her makeshift breasts as she slid into the dress, draping it over her shoulders and struggling to button herself from behind, cursing to herself. Kyle leaned back and swung his foot in front of him, heaving a deep sigh. "Look, all I can say is to be yourself. You're not an asshole, well, in most cases," he scoffed, Kendra laughing to herself and shaking her head, "so they'll at least like _that_ about you. Our best bet is to try to make you like Stan or Token or Clyde," he shrugged. "The elves trust them enough, but still remember that they _are_ human. That may be the best that we can do, but they're respected and well liked. I'm sure that we can get you right up in there with their rankings in no time if me and my mother talk you up enough."

Kendra smiled, lacing up her final boot and taking a deep breath, looking at herself in the mirror. She almost didn't recognize herself in such simple attire once again like in her youth. She loved it. Every bit of her _loved_ the modesty of the outfit, the way that it so easily draped off her hips and rode to the comfort of worn boots. She wriggled her toes and sighed happily, relishing in losing the fucking high heels she'd been forced into for so long.

She stepped from behind the screen, seeing Kyle still intently staring at the far wall. She smirked. _Such_ a gentleman. She knocked on the wall beside of her and he whipped his head around, blinking at her in shock. "Better," he broke into a shy smile, getting to his feet and walking over towards her, nodding in approval. " _Now_ you won't stick out like a sore thumb," he smirked gently, getting a sheepish grin in return. "Oh," he said, reaching down into his robe pocket, "The girls said to put these in your hair," he held out a few pink flowers matching those on her scarf and she blinked, grasping them in delicate fingers and turning them. Little flowers with four outstanding petals cloaked in their light powder color. Kyle smirked at her curious expression, "We call them _vynnessia vesdrac._ Or Butterfly Souls," he rolled his eyes, grasping one back and pointing to the soft petals, "'Cause ya know...looks like a butterfly," he shrugged sheepishly. She nodded, holding one up to her hair and frowning. She didn't do flowers, only ribbon. So few plants were within her availability in Kupa Keep.

Kyle noticed her hesitation, reaching up and hooking the one in his hand through her side braid. Kendra watched him in astonishment as he silently went about threading her hair with the plants in her hand. He noticed her staring and blushed, "My Ma always needed help putting flowers in her hair," he explained, taking them one at a time to wind stems flawlessly into the soft golden straw. "My dad is an idiot when it comes to not yanking hair out, as you can tell from the baldness," he said jokingly, "and Ike doesn't quite understand how sometimes you _do_ have to look decent for the people, so she made me do it," he shook his head. "At least _your_ hair isn't curly. Trust me, it makes it a thousand times harder," he scoffed, feeling his own fluffy bangs hanging pointedly against his forehead. She smirked, reaching up and tucking her last flower into the side of his copper curls, both of them staring at each other with their fingers entangled in one another's locks.

Kyle's breath was caught in his throat, staring up into those freshwater eyes silently, heart beating out of control. He felt dizzy and nauseous, Kendra's body heat seeming to overwhelm him. He couldn't even acknowledge his _own_ heat spreading through his face as his keen mind seemed to slip him completely. Kendra gulped, feeling his hair curling around her gloved fingertips and biting her lip under the concealment of her scarf. She looked down at him stuck in his fluster and smiled nervously in the tension.

"Isn't it time to _go,_ Your Highnesses?" an irritated voice sprung up, both of them ripping apart from each other and turning to see Stan in the doorway, a dark shadow over his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," Kyle nodded briskly, heart still trying to find a rhythm again. "Let's uh...let's go," he jerked his head for Kendra to follow, ducking down into himself embarrassedly. He glanced up to see Stan watching him disapprovingly and winced in apology, the ranger turning on his heel and storming out the door. Kendra watched Kyle slump entirely, looking beyond guilty and disheartened.

She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, stepping over to her desk and scrawling him another note, _'Are you all right?'_

He looked between the note and her, the princess catching the remorse lingering in those leaf-green eyes. "It's...a long story," he said quietly, looking at the door before back to her and taking a deep breath. "But it doesn't matter," he straightened himself up. "What matters is the two of us getting through this. You're sure you're okay with doing this so soon?"

She nodded, reaching down and putting her hand on his shoulder supportively, trying to read the influx of emotions steadily coursing through the younger. He smiled meekly, "Come on, then," he patted her hand, leading her out the door and into the corridor, finding Stan, Craig, and Butters waiting for them.

Kyle looked at his ranger, heart sinking as Stan caught Kendra's hand still on his shoulder, looking away from him angrily and the prince bit his lip.

"Are ya ready, Your Highnesses?" Butters chipper voice broke through the tension.

"Yeah. We are," Kyle replied quietly, feeling Kendra squeeze his shoulder before letting her hand drop off of him. "Stan, you ready?"

"Fine," he grumbled.

Kyle narrowed his eyes at him, Kendra watching cautiously as the redhead straightened up, face falling from culpability into a stern line. Stan wanted to play this game? _Fine_. He had his own pawns to move. "Good," he said sharply. "I expect you to be on your best behavior, Ranger," he snapped, Stan flinching at his tone and finally locking eyes with him blankly. "Come along, Princess," he said, holding out his hand. Kendra blinked, taking it and the both of them reddening as their fingers linked together and dropped between their hips.

Stan's jaw fell slightly agape as he watched the two of them walking away from him, only moving when Craig grabbed around his arm to begin dragging him beside himself. "Make it more obvious," Craig muttered, glancing to the ignorant paladin to his opposite side who was nearly beaming with glee at the royals and their affectionate display.

"Ain't this great?" he whispered excitedly to the rogue.

"Yeah. Wonderful," he scoffed and rolled his eyes, looking at the devastated ranger and shaking his head. Great. If something happened, he'd probably have to handle fucking all of it on his own. Stan would be too busy frozen and watching the prince like a goddamn puppy who was being taunted with steak. He shook his head, continuing to drag the boy with them and watching the hands of the prince and princess carefully, raising his brow at the both of them squeezing against one another's palms. Sharp eyes slivered up the two forms, watching as their shoulders subtly slunk into a nearly comfortable stance as they continued down the way towards the main door of the palace. He looked between the ranger and his prince and sighed through his nose. Well great. Reading emotions with ease came with a hell of a price being so closely involved in this political and heartbroken bullshit: He could just tell that it wasn't going to get any easier any time soon.


	15. A Vital Credence

The princess had never been so nervous in her damn life. Not the first time she'd been presented as an adopted royal. Not when Cartman had come into power and she'd realized that Liane's kindness was now a thing of the past. No, instead every ounce of skittish energy that she'd ever exerted was in this moment, walking hand-in-hand with her betrothed down into the thrall of the kingdom. She thanked the stars for her gloves, knowing her palms were sweating up a storm, wondering if Kyle could tell just how uneasy she felt.

"Stop shaking," his gentle voice pierced the air and answered her question. She looked down confusedly and he smiled. "It's all right. At least you don't have to worry about saying something stupid...right?..." he paused and his face fell embarrassedly. "Wait. Shit. That was shitty, I'm sor-" she held up her hand to stop him, getting a laugh to finally break through her chest. He was completely right, she was safe from _that_ potential catastrophe. Honestly, it probably made her job only half as difficult as it would have been otherwise.

He smiled shyly, turning his attention back to the forefront as they reached the edge of the town. "Deep breaths," he advised her, stealing a glance to make sure Stan, Craig, and Butters were still with them before leading her onwards.

Heads shot up from various tasks all around them, eyes widening and pointed ears perking in interest as they watched their next-in-line crossing the threshold. Kyle offered them all a kind smile that he'd perfected over time, Kendra tightening her hand around his in fright. "Come on," he offered. "Best way to experience Larnion is with a _nau'shindcal ssintchal_." Kendra blinked down at him and he chuckled, "You'll see."

"Prince Kyle?" A voice popped, the group turning to see a woman holding a young girl approaching them cautiously.

"Hello, Anna," he greeted sweetly. "How are you?" The princess looked at him in surprise at his immediate acknowledgement before flickering her gaze back up, brow creasing in worry at the woman Drow's skepticism.

She cleared her throat, tucking curly black hair behind her ear. "I'm fine, Your Highness, thank you. How...how are _you_?" she emphasized, looking between the two royals. Kyle watched her carefully, reading a silent signal in her stare. She was more than prepared to get help if he needed it, if he was being held under duress by this foreigner.

"I'm wonderful," he assured her. He tugged Kendra's hand and led her over to the woman. "This is Princess Kendra of Kupa Keep," he introduced her, the blonde giving a small, shaky curtsey. "We were betrothed nearly a month ago."

Dark brown eyes widened in shock, looking back at the redhead. "B-betrothed?" she repeated. He nodded casually and she forced a shaking smile on her face. "Oh...oh how lovely," she managed to eek out. "I-I can't believe Mitchell didn't say anything."

"Kendra, this is Anna Murphy," Kyle motioned towards the woman. "She's the wife of our captain of the guard. We owe their family _much_ ," he emphasized.

The blonde looked down at his hinting stare, forcing her eyes to adapt their softness once more, letting a smile spread under her sheer scarf. She curtseyed once more, Anna watching her curiously.

"She's mute," Kyle explained, Anna's face falling into a marred mess of realization and more bewilderment. "But she has great ideas for us," he said, squeezing Kendra's hand to get her to follow along with his little white lie. "A way for humans and elves to coexist. She'll be an excellent asset to Larnion."

Anna smiled softly, "If you believe so, it must be true, Young Prince."

He smirked, "You know I would do nothing that would detract from our land, Anna."

She nodded in agreement. "That I do..." She looked up and bowed a bit for the princess. "Welcome to Larnion, Your Highness." Kendra smiled in thanks, eyes drifting to the child in Anna's arms. She gave a small wave, flinching back when the girl hid in fright into her mother's bosom.

"Aw, come on, Lea," Kyle cooed. "She doesn't bite."

The young brunette peeked back around, watching Kendra worriedly. "Human," she murmured shyly.

He nodded, "Yes, she's human." He flickered his eyes around, seeing the crowds stopped and staring at the show between the small group and taking a deep breath. This all rode on _this_ one moment. Safe with the kids, safe with the adults. That's how it worked. He let go of Kendra's hand and stepped forward, gesturing to Anna who bit her lip apprehensively but nodded nonetheless, prying off Lea from her and handing the toddler to the prince. If her child was safe with anyone, it was him, she knew well enough to trust the royal family, that they were beyond worth such respect.

Kyle sighed, shifting Lea around in his arms to look up at him, smirking at her mussed up hair, catching leaves and soil coating the ends of the long strands. "Someone was digging through the garden again," he sang a bit.

She blushed and nodded briskly. "Mama made tomatoes."

"Ah," he smiled. "You know who else _really_ likes tomatoes?" he asked. She shook her head and he jerked his own towards Kendra. "The princess _loves_ them, don't you, Kendra?" he asked pointedly. She blinked but nodded enthusiastically, giving the child a small grin, trying _desperately_ to ignore just who this small girl was reminding her so considerably of. "Just like you, huh?" he asked Lea.

She shrugged bashfully, sniffling and looking at the human distrustfully. Kyle inwardly sighed, grating the inside of his lip and trying to think of his next move. "I like your hair, it's pretty," Lea finally said shyly to the princess, both of the royals brightening at the words. Kendra cautiously waved Butters over with her parchment, turning him and writing a quick message on his back. She smiled adoringly, carefully sliding the paper towards the girl. Lea blinked, looking at her mother for a nod of permission before taking it back in chubby little fingers, squinting her eyes at it. "Yours is...really...pretty, too," she read slowly, face breaking into a tiny grin. "Thank you," she beamed, the princess' shoulders sinking in relief.

"You see?" Kyle teased, shaking Lea a bit. "She's nice. A little weird lookin', but nice," he shot the blonde a wink who raised her brow with a smirk.

Lea looked between the two of them and cocked her head, "You're gonna marry her, Prince Kyle?"

He chuckled softly, red tinging his cheeks and ignoring the glare he could feel from Stan's eyes behind him. "Yes."

"Will her hair look like that?" she pointed, Kendra laughing gently and grabbing parchment once more. She looked at the curious child and shook her head to herself, handing Kyle the paper to read, watching warmly at the smile overtaking his face.

"'Who knows?'" he read. "'Maybe we need you to come make sure my hair is _just_ right for the wedding. I only trust others with pretty hair to help with mine.'" He looked up and grinned at the princess proudly, Lea smiling wide enough to show her missing baby tooth and nodding enthusiastically.

"I wanna help!" she blurted, Anna covering her face and laughing to herself at the child's eagerness.

Kyle smirked, "Well then I guess we'll be seeing you in a few months, Lea." He set her down and she toddled up towards the princess on chubby legs, everyone watching cautiously as she stared up at the tall blonde, tugging on her dress. Kendra flickered her eyes to Kyle, who smiled reassuringly. A wave of relief flooded through her, dropping down to her knees in front of the girl and both of them staring at each other.

Lea cocked her head, standing on her tiptoes and tugging on Kendra's ear. "Your ears are funny," she observed. "Do humans cut them off? My friends say you do," she said snobbishly.

Kyle winced, watching as the princess shook her head and laughed, motioning for Butters to hand her down her materials. She quickly scribed Lea a note and passed it to her, the elf relinquishing her ear to grab at the paper. "'No, humans just...aren't as...s-special as elves,'" she worked out. "'You need the...extra room to put...your magic.'" She looked up at the princess with wide eyes before looking back at her mother. "Really?" she asked excitedly.

Anna smiled and nodded, "Really."

She pointed at the prince, "Then shouldn't Prince Kyle's ears be up in the clouds?" she asked innocently, everyone around her bursting into laughter sans Kendra, who blinked in utter confusion at the comment.

"Maybe one day I'll wake up like that," Kyle rolled his eyes amusedly, stepping towards them. He bent down towards Lea and smiled, "You like Princess Kendra, Lea?"

She nodded briskly, "You're nice," she told the woman pointedly. Kendra's heart fluttered into a calmness she didn't know was possible being surrounded in this strange land, being the _outcast_.

Kendra looked to see Kyle holding out his hand, taking it and raising back up onto her feet. "Well she needs to see more of our little home, so you be good," he teased. "Don't eat all of your mom's tomatoes."

"Ha," Anna scoffed playfully. "Prince or no, she won't ever take that order," she winked.

Kyle chuckled, ruffling Lea's hair a bit, "We'll see you later, Lea. We'll send for you for the wedding," he promised with a wink. Kendra waved goodbye to her, smiling as she waved back frantically from her mother's side as the woman pulled her back, letting Kyle turn her and lead her deeper into the village, looking at each other in spite of the countless eyes watching them in astonishment. "You see?" Kyle insisted. "You did great with her. I _told_ you it wouldn't be so bad."

They paused as Kendra quickly wrote out her reply on Butter's back with her free hand, passing off the note and continuing to walk along the way. _'Thanks to you. I was about to just run and hide.'_

He smirked, "But you _didn't_ ," he reminded her. "That's what matters. You befriend the captain's daughter, the captain respects you, and therefore the _town_ respects you. You just lied out a really bright future for yourself on your first interaction. The first citizen I ever spoke to? I spilled soup on their lap," he rolled his eyes at himself, Kendra chuckling.

' _Well, thank you regardless. Seriously, I was terrified of being lynched. Non-violent or not, I can't take on a Drow if I'm in that situation.'_

The redhead snorted, "No, probably not. But you have nothing to worry about," he promised. "Us and our peace-loving, 'tree-hugging ways' as Fatass so _nicely_ puts it," he scoffed. "Be thankful you're not like him," he smiled sadly. "No one would trust you if you were."

Kendra paused, handing him another small message, _'Yourself included?'_

He looked up at her and shrugged, "Can you blame me? He's called me a witch...And a monster because of what I am," he reminded her quietly. "But you're not like that, so you don't need to concern yourself. I trust you just fine."

The blonde looked back at Stan, his arms crossed and staring at the ground angrily. She let out a long breath, slowly writing once more. _'So, why was everyone laughing at what Lea said?'_

Kyle cocked his head, "Laughing? What are you-" he paused, face falling embarrassedly in realization. "Oh, nothing," he laughed awkwardly. "Really, it's nothing to ask ab-"

"Because Kyle's magic exceeds most everyone else's," Stan finally spoke up, both of them shooting their heads towards the ranger. Kyle narrowed his eyes in warning, Stan not catching it as he locked stares with the woman holding the hand of his prince. The woman who knew _nothing_ of the redhead she was so-very-comfortable with being attached to. "The prince is _extremely_ gifted," he said lowly. "He used his magic when he was only a few months old."

"Stan, stop," Kyle snapped embarrassedly, face changing hues on a dime. He glanced up at Kendra's surprised look and ducked down. "It...It wasn't a big deal."

Butters' mouth gaped, "Is it true, then? I heard ya threw a tree!"

"It wasn't a tree!" he sighed in aggravation, scratching at his head and clearing his throat. "It was a branch. Just...just a branch."

"One the size of an oak from what I've heard," Craig commented dryly.

"Everyone shut up!" Kyle bit and closed his eyes. He fucking hated that story beyond all else. Nearly every grand event of the Drow had _someone_ mentioning the prince's infant feat. It was a rumor that'd spread far and wide through most kingdoms, Drow or no. Most other elves began to wield their magics between the ages of four and five, but he'd started right out of the gate. They could only figure that's what'd made him so sickly over the years, his body too focused on harboring his magics to be able to emphasize on his health.

He looked down at paper being pressed against him, grasping it and reading, _'Do you need to go home? You look upset.'_

Kyle cocked his head, looking up at her skeptically. "You...you aren't gonna...ask questions?"

She shook her head, Butters scrambling to give her more surface to write on his back. _'No, obviously you don't like it being brought up. I haven't even_ _ **seen**_ _you using magic so I figure it's not so important that it's pertinent I prod about it, less you want to talk. So we can change the subject if you'd prefer.'_

He smiled gratefully and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I _really_ don't want to get into it," he admitted tiredly. "I'm sure you'll learn about it all one day regardless...my mother loves to ramble about it," he said in complete fluster.

' _And when she does, I'll put my fingers in my ears if you don't want me to hear the story,'_ she smiled gently.

He chuckled, "Yeah. Do that around my mother and _survive_ and I'll declare you a war hero," he teased. She chuckled and he heaved a sigh. "C'mon, let's go get you a ssintchal," he jerked his head, leading her down a new road. She smiled excitedly, face beaming with a radiant heat as Kyle's fingers tightened around her own and feeling the tension sliding off of his back with every step, proud at herself for calming him down so easily.

Kyle led her through the crowds, occasionally greeting a citizen by name and waving, asking small pleasantry questions regarding their family. Kendra was in awe. She'd been with Cartman a handful of times when he visited the kingdom of Kupa Keep on business. He was curt, demanding that people get out of his way, announcing his presence and demanding that every being pay heed to it. She'd be amazed if the fat king could name a mere ten of his subjects, while Kyle seemed to have every single one of his own's entire genealogy mapped out. She smiled, watching the prince interacting and curtseying when appropriate as he introduced her. This was going far better than she'd hoped...

Her mind slipped for a moment back into Kenny's, watching the redhead with hazy blue eyes. He wondered what Kyle would suggest for Karen. If he'd understand if everything came to light. Maybe the prince would be relieved, or maybe he'd call for Kenny's head. He couldn't be sure. The blonde tongued over his lips lightly, eyes tracing over the younger and a silent, shuddery breath escaping past his teeth. This was getting hard. Far too hard. It'd be easier if he hated the Drow, just get the information he needed and _go_. But...the inherent kindness was becoming a drug. He was drowning in the warm, loving essence that Kyle and his kingdom exuded. For the first time in his life, he was being taken into a swaddling cloth, treated like he actually _meant_ something. His opinions were being heard, his actions were being praised. He was _someone_ in Larnion, not just the 'pretty blonde' who sat behind the current royal figurehead in utter silence.

And Kyle...Kyle was warming up to him, easily making physical contact with him with only that blush that he carried in his pocket seeping through. He was quiet and awkward still, but the anger and depression he'd found within the redhead upon their meeting seemed to be decimated as he grew used to the notion of their union. Kenny winced, he couldn't deny he was finding himself feeling the same. And it worried him a bit. This was a whirlwind for the both of them, falling comfortably into the steps of life beside each other in less than a month. Ken bit his lip, this could only make it harder down the line.

He jerked back into his place as Kyle tugged on his hand innocently, eyes fluttering back into the practiced Kendra state. "You doin' all right?" Kyle asked softly.

She nodded and he smiled. "Good, come on." He began moving towards a building and opened the door of a cozy wooden hut, gesturing for her to step inside. She smiled. Still such the gentleman. She made her way in with Kyle following behind, eyes flowing over the homey decor of a small bakery, relishing in a warm, toasted smell attacking her nostrils comfortingly. "Rebecca?" Kyle called. "You open?"

A curly brown head poked out from behind the far wall behind the counter, a nervous smile passing over the girl's face as she hurried out and curtseyed. "Prince Kyle! I-I didn't know you w-were comin' to town today."

He grinned gently, "Yes, well, we have a new resident who needs a tour," he gestured towards the blonde. "This is Princess Kendra."

She froze for a moment, staring at the tall blonde and a visible gulp receding down her throat. "H-how do ya do?" she murmured, giving a quick, sloppy curtsey.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "She's my fiancé," he said plainly, Kendra watching in interest as a level of hurt crossed Rebecca's eyes.

"But...you haven't had your season, have you?"

He shook his head, "No. I haven't and I won't. My parents arranged us," he motioned listlessly between himself and Kendra, walking over and leaning on the counter, slipping into a saucy grin for the brunette. "So, can you do me a favor?" he purred, Kendra watching him with amused eyes as Rebecca's face erupted into a blush.

"O-of course, My Prince," she grinned nervously.

"I told Kendra about how _amazing_ your ssintchal is," he cocked his brow with a smirk. "Could you...make us up a fresh batch? If it's not too much trouble, of course," he added.

She nodded briskly, "Right away, Your Highness. It may take me a few minutes."

He held up his hand, "Please. Take your time. I'll be right out here waiting," he winked, Rebecca grinning and hurrying to the back towards her ovens.

Stan chuckled quietly and shook his head, "Kyle, you need to stop doing that."

"Stop doing what?" he asked innocently, plopping down into a stool and gesturing for Kendra to sit next to him. "All I did was ask for some food."

"From a girl who'd throw herself at you in an instant," he raised his brow amusedly, forgetting for a moment their audience and his building jealousy. Seeing Kyle approach matters like that had _always_ been a treat, especially once those talents started getting used on himself.

He smirked and shrugged, "So sue me, I like me some fresh pastries. She feels special, I get warm bread. Everyone wins."

Kendra laughed and shook her head, taking her supplies from Butters sitting beside her and scrawling her message on the polished countertop, sliding it into Kyle's arm. _'Oh, so you can flirt with_ _ **her**_ _, but with me you can barely make a sentence. I see how it is.'_

He blushed, looking up and finding her teasing stare, clearing his throat. "Look, I'm not interested in her, all right?"

She grinned wider. _'Oh, so...you're interested in_ _ **me**_ _? Is being awkward how you approach someone you_ _ **actually**_ _want?'_

Kendra watched him battling for words, jade eyes flittering around nervously. "Well, no...I mean...yes...but I-I...shut _up_ ," he snapped, throwing the paper at her and crossing his arms in a pout, glaring at the back wall as she leaned her head on the counter and her shoulders shook in hysterics. Kyle scoffed and shook his head, looking to Stan sitting down beside of him. They locked eyes and Kyle winced apologetically once more, the ranger's shoulders sinking. He gulped, forcing a small smile and nodding. Kyle breathed in relief. Good. Stan wasn't _as_ angry with him, though that didn't mean that he wasn't in for a _hell_ of an argument later that night.

" _Perhaps on this d-day, Prince Kyle is smitten._  
 _Enchanted with b-blonde hair as soft as a kitten's._  
 _And maybe our pr-prince, will take the one he adores,_  
 _Straight up to his room, a-a-and show her his sword."_

They all whirled their heads to the back of the room, finding a brunette boy sitting with a lute and smiling playfully at the group. Kyle leaned his head back and groaned, "Jimmy, knock it _off_."

Jimmy laughed, "Aw, Prince Kyle, come _on_ , you l-l-l- _love_ my songs."

"Yeah, about as much as that time that dog bit me," he said dryly. He sighed, "Kendra, that's Jimmy. Town bard. Annoying as he looks," he waved towards him aimlessly.

"N-not nice, your high-hi-highness," he pouted, strumming over his lute pointedly.

Kendra smiled widely at the bard who winked in return. "P-Princess," he nodded. "I would get up for you, b-but dear Rebecca took m-m-my crutches."

Stan cocked his brow, "And why did she do that?"

"Because he called me a whore," Rebecca poked back out from behind the wall with a frown. "When...when he apologizes, he can have them back," she said as sternly as she could manage.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Kendra, you and Jimmy would get along pretty well. You're both perverted nuisances," he frowned. Kendra elbowed him, handing him a note.

' _Maybe, but I am rather curious about an elf's "sword", my dear.'_

The redhead shot his head towards her flashing him an innocent grin and swallowed dryly. "Shut **up** _ **,**_ " he repeated angrily, Kendra winking and sending him into another blushing fit.

" _And yet here we see, the young prince does b-b-b-blush,_  
 _At the lady who sits there w-with bosoms so plush._  
 _How l-l-long will it take, before they both see_  
 _That they'll g-g-go to their room, and thr-throw out the key?"_

"Jimmy, I swear to _God_ ," Kyle growled, ignoring Kendra practically falling out of her seat in her silent fit of laughter. "Knock it _off,_ Kendra!" he snapped, the princess leaning her head on his shoulder and continuing to shake, fighting so hard to hold down her sounds. Craig and Jimmy burst into laughter at Kyle's awkward stiffening with the contact, Butters and Rebecca both hiding their giggles behind their hands. Stan stared darkly, the airiness seeming to rush past him once more like a magnetic field barring off any possible interaction.

Kyle's jaw nearly began to tremble, looking at the blonde head on his shoulder. He caught the whiff of earth beaming from her, blinking in confusion. That was an _elf's_ scent, right? But she smelled like homegrown soil roasted from the sun. Full of life springing up from the deepest confines, an overwhelmingly powerful presence from something so simple. And yet, there it was: Kendra was soil. She was what he was to build life with, to make this halcyon essence provide for his people. Though, like soil, it seemed he didn't have to do much more than tend to her every now and then, she had the ingredients all on her own.

Kendra finally took a few calming breaths, raising her head quickly and both of them freezing as they bumped noses with one another, jerking back from the contact. They silently blinked as the group around them slowly began to simmer down, both of them fiddling with their hair as nonchalantly as they could. Fingers brushed against flowers within their locks, Kyle remembering all at once that he still had his still wound in his copper curls and inwardly cursing to himself at still wearing the plant strung there by the blonde.

"W-what's wrong, Prince Kyle?" Jimmy teased. "Y-y-you never had s-someone lay on ya before?"

Craig and Butters broke into another round of laughter, Kyle dropping his fingers from his hair and looking at the bard in flustered anger. "Jimmy, remember that I have the power to have you exiled."

He winked, tipping his cap, "But you won't," he said confidently.

Kyle sighed, looking at Kendra's amused face and shaking his head. "Rebecca, are our ssintchal done yet?" he asked exhaustively.

"Let me check," she chuckled, walking back around the wall.

Kyle looked down at another paper, _'I'll happily lay on you anytime.'_

His face may as well have been dipped into one of Rebecca's pastry ovens, every ounce of him ablaze and shaking as he looked at Kendra's suggestively raised brows. "I...I..." he couldn't find his words, Stan sneaking a look at the note still in his hands and his own face furrowing in fury.

"That's _not_ appropriate, Your Highness," he snapped, everyone shooting their heads towards him.

Kyle blinked and frowned, "Stan, that's not your-"

"You are _not_ his wife yet," he reminded the stunned blonde staunchly. "I'd suggest you remember that you are not even considered a _part_ of this land before being so brash."

The room fell deathly silent, Kendra slinking into her seat in humiliation, rubbing her arm sheepishly and staring at the floor. She couldn't exactly dispute that.

Kyle stared at his ranger, eyes slowly beginning to narrow dangerously. "Go," he said simply.

Stan blinked and looked down at him. "What?"

" _Go_ ," he repeated. "We have Craig and Butters. I want you to _leave_."

The noirette's jaw dropped slightly in shock. "Kyle-"

"That's _Your Highness_ to you, Ranger," he snapped, Stan recoiling at the tone. "She may not be my wife yet, but she _is_ royalty. And _you_ are to treat royalty with respect. Do you understand me?" he demanded.

"But...I-I..." Stan floundered, looking to see Craig shaking his head, a wry expression over his face.

Kyle got to his feet, posture tensing and green directed furiously at the timid guard. "Yes or no, Stanley."

"Yes," he whispered.

"Good, now leave," he pointed to the door. "We'll discuss this later."

He looked between his prince and the rest of the group staring at them with wide eyes and sheepishly got to his feet. "Your Highness, I...I'm sorry."

"Don't fucking tell _me_ that, tell _her_ ," he gestured back to Kendra who looked up at the ranger with a wince.

Stan sighed, looking between Kyle and the princess. "I'm sorry," he said flatly to the blonde, giving a quick bow and turning on his heel, speeding out of the bakery as his prince demanded.

Kyle watched the door slam shut and took a deep breath, turning to see Kendra looking up at him sadly, his heart dropping. "Are you all right?" he asked in concern, sitting back down next to her.

' _I'm sorry_ ," a tiny note next to him said.

"You have _nothing_ to be sorry about," he said firmly. "Stan's behavior was completely out of line."

Butters nodded, "It's okay, Princess."

"Y-yeah. Stan just has a bi-bi-b-big stick up his ass," Jimmy added.

Kyle laid a hand on her arm and smiled sadly, "I'll talk to him. We'll get him on your side, I promise." Kendra nodded softly, staring at the floor still and Kyle twisted his lips. He looked over as Rebecca slid a plate of pastries stained with reds and purples in front of him, breaking into a smile and grasping one. He held it under her nose, the princess looking up at his gentle grin. "Strawberry," he said casually. "Best kind. I wasn't lying when I said Rebecca makes the best ssintchals."

"Oh, Your Highness," Rebecca waved him off bashfully.

Kyle broke the pastry in half, Kendra watching with wide eyes as buttery flakes tore apart, a thick layer of red jam glistening in the shop's lights as it spread like a curtain with Kyle's hands. He put a side by Kendra's hand, watching her shakily grasp it back and a sigh escaping her nose. She looked up at him with a small smile, raising the pastry and moving her scarf just enough for no one to notice her chin shape, biting down into the heavenly, airy dough. Her chest fluttered, eyes batting at the piquant sensation washing over her tongue.

Kyle watched her amusedly, taking his own bite and sighing happily. "Good, right?" he asked through his mouthful.

She nodded briskly, looking at Rebecca with a smile who grinned back sheepishly. "I'm glad you l-like 'em, Your Highness," she said, tucking hair behind her ear. "My brother's recipe, been making them f-for years."

"Feel a little better?" Kyle asked, the blonde looking over and nodding again with a smile. "Good," he smirked. "Rebecca's baking will cure _any_ ailment," he shot a wink at the brunette who blushed, clasping her hands together and fiddling with her fingers giddily.

Kendra stared at him as his demeanor seemed to relax with her own, looking down at the pastry in her hand with her eyes glistening. She let them slip closed, hearing Craig and Butters complimenting Rebecca, Jimmy asking for his crutches back, and Kyle berating the bard for calling her what he did. Kendra looked at Kyle's free hand, an urge hitting her with a mighty force and she gulped, reaching up and placing her own hand over the redhead's. Kyle looked at her for a moment from his ranting, both of them smiling awkwardly and the prince turning his hand to link their fingers together loosely before turning back to yell at Jimmy stringing up another song. She sighed happily and squeezed his fingers, sneaking in another warm bite. Whether or not Stan had a point of her status in Larnion, no matter what the end goal may or may not be, one thing was poignantly clear in the midst of comfortable, friendly chatter and Kyle's gentle grasp: She had never felt as accepted as she did in that moment.


	16. To Glide is to Fall

Stan's eyes hadn't left the window in hours, watching as the sun sank down below the horizon. He was exhausted, mentally and otherwise. He just didn't know how to _handle_ all the changes that were coming to his kingdom, how to deal with the fucking princess who'd just waltzed right in and taken Kyle's hand like it was _meant_ for her. He growled to himself, seeing those blue eyes gazing up and down his prince's body earlier that day. Maybe she thought she was subtle, who knew. But something about the tone of her eyes changed, going from a curious clarity to a deep-seated haze. Stan knew that look, he wore it himself for the prince, catching it many a time in his reflection or even seeing Kyle giving it right back to himself: It was _lust_. She _lusted_ for _his_ prince. This foreigner who didn't know their ways, who was so _casually_ impetuous with the royal figure that was above herself...Stan shook his head. He didn't get it. Why couldn't Kyle _see_ what she was doing? Why was he _allowing_ this girl to get to him like she was?

It didn't make any sense. Kyle was far too smart, _far_ too grounded in the means of chivalry with everyone but Stan himself. The noirette was the _one_ person that Kyle let go of himself for, opened himself up to the possibility of living like, as Kyle put it, a _normal_ elf. He could shove down everything with Stan; His status, his duties, his overwhelming magic that only Stan knew how to help him control when it got out of hand. But the prince was seeming _adamant_ on letting the princess into the circle as well, going so far as to _hold her hand_.

He bristled, biting his lip and letting his canine dig into the thin skin. Kyle wouldn't even do that with him, not even behind closed doors. The most he got was an afterglow kiss and a few brisk touches here and there while Kyle reeled from his hormones. He didn't _like_ to be overly affectionate, he'd always wanted to keep himself at that distance, where the both of them fell into each other for sex and sex only. It was something that Stan loathed, and an irritating element of his existence that he _wished_ the Drow would reconsider...But it was enough for him to get by with at least. But now? Watching Kendra and he clasping fingers, phalanges sliding disgustingly flawlessly against one another.

Kyle had once told Stan when they held hands during sex that he hated holding the guard's hand, that it was too big for him to feel comfortable slipping in and out of. He had noted how Stan's palms sweat, how his calluses from his sword grip distracted him from the task at hand. He'd laughed at Stan's pout at his observations, kissing the back of his hand and shrugging sheepishly. _"Well, we can't be perfect in every way. You have your hands, I have my fucking knees,"_ he'd pointed to his knobby patella and laughed. Stan had been dumbfounded, thinking every _inch_ of Kyle was perfect, loving how his knees stood out starkly against his lean legs, just another element that beckoned him in, demanded another glance like his fiery hair or his stunning eyes.

But, apparently his hands just weren't good enough. No, _Kendra's_ were. Fingers nearly as slender as Kyle's own sliding between the webbing, metacarpals clasped against one another like it was the most natural thing in the world for the both of them despite their awkward stance. Stan sighed irritably and shook his head. He hated every bit of this situation.

He hated being nothing more than the fucking _guard_. He had no real say in anything. Kyle had asked his opinion on matters countless times, but in the end, all that mattered was what the prince declared. And he'd made his declaration loud and clear: _You're not the most important one in my life anymore._

"Stan?" a voice popped up, the ranger whirling around to see Clyde looking at him tiredly. "Stan, Prince Kyle is requesting you visit him in his room." His heart skipped a bit, eyes lighting up and he nodded, hopping to his feet. He started to hurry off before Clyde held up his hand to stop him for a moment, worry in his hazel eyes. "Stan...what happened?"

"Whaddya mean?" he narrowed his gaze.

"You came back from the kingdom. _Without_ Kyle. You _never_ leave Kyle alone," he frowned.

Stan shrugged awkwardly, "He told me to."

"Why?" he demanded.

He bit his lip, "I...wasn't particularly kind to something the princess said."

Clyde frowned, "You know better." Stan just nodded and Clyde sighed, "Stan, don't mess this up, all right? The two of them together is a _good_ thing," he insisted. "Don't let your own possessiveness of Kyle cloud your judgement," he warned.

Blue eyes flickered up into his own, Clyde reading a heavy misery within them. "I won't. I have to go," he murmured, speeding past him and refusing to give him the chance to say another word. The brunette just shook his head, turning to go return to his duties.

Stan hurried through the halls, nearly shoving servants over to get to Kyle's door. He placed his hand on the knob and gulped, straightening himself up and taking a deep breath. He had to go about this _calmly_. Losing his temper against Kyle was a battle he'd never win. The Jew had a hell of a lot more lung power than he did, after all. Carefully creaking open the door, he stepped inside, moving within the stairwell and clambering up the steps. He licked over his lips, watching the light of Kyle's room grow brighter as he ascended, pausing four steps from the landing and taking a deep breath. He knocked on the wall.

"Come up," Kyle's voice called, Stan did as allowed, his head poking up from the stairwell and cringing at Kyle sitting on his bed, staring at him darkly. "Get up here," he growled.

The ranger made his way onto the landing, taking a deep breath and wincing. "Yes, Your Highness?"

Kyle got to his feet and shook his head. "Stan...I have _never_ been so angry at you," he snapped, the guard recoiling. "You embarrassed Kendra. You embarrassed yourself. You embarrassed _me_ ," he gestured to himself. "You are supposed to represent _my_ ideals and you have the fucking _nerve_ to talk to her like that? What the fuck can you even say to explain yourself?!"

He shifted and rubbed his arm sheepishly. "She...what she said was...lewd," he said quietly.

"Oh, wow. Because lewdness offends me so. Oh my god. Thank you for saving me," he said dryly.

"Kyle, you're a _prince_ ," he reminded him. "You aren't just another street merchant or something, she can't talk to you like that!"

He narrowed his eyes, "And she's a prince _ss_ ," he countered. "Our conversations are between _us_ , not _you_." Kyle stepped closer to him and sighed angrily. "Dammit, Stan. I'm _marrying_ her," he insisted.

"Maybe your mom will call it off," he shrugged meekly, feeling so much tinier than the small menace across from him.

Kyle scoffed, "For one thing, we _both_ know my mother. That isn't happening. For another, what the _fuck_ do you think is going to happen if it _is_ called off?"

"She goes home, things go back to normal?" he winced.

"And you get me all to yourself," he continued. Stan was silent and he crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Stan...You just said it yourself: I'm a _prince_. What we have...It isn't going to last forever," he said quietly.

"I was prepared for you to have your season," he said quietly. "I... _hated_ that it would happen, but I knew it would and there'd be nothing I could do..." He frowned, "But I wasn't ready for someone like _her_."

"Why do you hate her so much?" he demanded. "Because she fucking teases me? Fucking _everyone_ teases me, Stan," he reminded him wryly. "I'm fucking tiny, it's easy to pick on me," he rolled his eyes.

He sighed in exasperation, "No."

"Then what?!"

Stan looked up at him once more and shook his head. "I don't like how she looks at you."

Kyle cocked his head, "Whaddya mean?"

Stan blinked at him, "Do...do you not _see it_?"

"See what?" he looked at him in bewilderment.

"She has moments where she...she looks at you like..." he struggled for the words, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "She looks at you like you're a fucking piece of _meat,_ Kyle."

He hitched his brow, "What? Like I'm less than her?"

"Oh my god, this is why you can't marry her," he said miserably, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're too fucking innocent about this whole thing."

The prince narrowed his eyes before they widened in realization. "Oh. OH!" he exclaimed. "Dude, I think we established a few _years_ ago that I ain't innocent, all right?" he scoffed. He paused for a moment, nose scrunching in thought. "Wait, she _actually_ wants to sleep with me?"

"Pretty fucking sure," he muttered.

"Is it bad I didn't even _think_ about that?" he twisted his lips. "Gross. I'd have to do all the work," he pouted. "I've never slept with a chick, I don't know how that whole thing even works."

Stan stared at him in shock. "Really? _That's_ your problem with the situation? Not the fact that she's eying you like a fucking piece of bait?"

"Oh no, my future wife is attracted to me, _what will I do_?" he looked at Stan as though he were stupid. "Fucking hell, Stan, I don't know what you want me to say here."

"Do _you_ want to sleep with _her_?"

"Not particularly, I don't _know_ her that well," he shrugged. "But that whole thing is like, five months off," he waved dismissively.

Stan watched him carefully, hearing a slight quiver in his voice, watching his feet shifting his weight awkwardly. "Why do you hold her hand so much?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, not _this_ again," he rolled his eyes.

"You did it once for appearances with the Canadian kings," he frowned. "But...but you can't seem to _stop_ now."

He quirked his brow, "So I fucking hold her hand, so _what_? Is that really so fucking weird considering our current position?"

"Yes!" he insisted. "You don't _like_ that cuddly shit, remember?" he reminded him harshly.

That seemed to stop Kyle in his tracks for a moment, looking at the ground thoughtfully and furrowing his brow. Stan was right. He _didn't_. He'd _hated_ the idea of being so public about any kinds of affection with whomever would end up as his betrothed. He didn't even like cuddling with fucking Stan in private after the ranger fucked him. But with Kendra...he didn't even _notice_ what he was doing. "I...I'm merely... _showcasing_ that our...our union is-"

"Bullshit, Kyle!" Stan snapped, the redhead recoiling in shock at the outburst. "I know you better than anyone," he rambled on, clutching at his hair. "You don't make those kinds of political moves without it being _glaringly_ obvious! At least to me!" he gestured to himself. "You're doing it without even thinking!"

The elf watched him carefully, throat bobbing with a gulp. He straightened himself up once more, trying to regain the stance that had wavered. "She's in a foreign land and can't talk, Stanley," he reminded him solemnly. "She needs someone."

"Then why isn't her _paladin_ helping her?"

"Because she's not _marrying_ her paladin!" he snapped. His face dropped miserably and Stan's along with it. "Stan...what do you want me to do?" he asked, voice cracking in the slightest. "Do...do you want me to make her hate me? So I'm living the rest of my life with someone who _resents_ me?"

"No, I just-"

"Because," he cut him off, teeth grating against each other and frustrated tears just barely dotting his lashes, "regardless of her feelings or my own, we're stuck together, okay? And I don't _want_ to live the rest of my life with someone who can't stand me."

Stan watched him carefully, eying the tense, defensive stance that Kyle exuded. "Can you stand her?" he asked softly.

"Yes. I can," he snapped. "She's nice. She's making the _effort_ to get in good graces with my people! That's fucking important to me, Stan!" he insisted.

The ranger sighed, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. "Kyle, she's not treating you like a fucking prince-"

"And there's nothing wrong with that!" he shut him down in an instant, Stan staring at him with wide eyes. "I don't _want_ someone who fucking...bows to me or...or acts like my opinion matters more!" he exclaimed. "Fucking _shit_ why the _fuck_ do you think you and I get naked all the goddamn time?!"

Stan's heart dropped, staring at the small, panting prince with rage firing in those deep green eyes; Those eyes that he saw in his sleep, that he wanted to see more than _anything_. "So that's all I am?" he asked meekly. "I'm...I'm an _escape_?"

Kyle blinked, going rigid at the realization of his statement. "Stan...Stan, _no_ ," he insisted, walking up to him and grabbing his arm. "Stan, I'm sorry, you're _not_ just an escape," he winced. "Look...I can't...explain it," he said exhaustively, looking up into Stan's devastated stare. "You...you aren't royalty," he said quietly. "You don't understand what it's like to be...holed up like this. And to put on such a fucking face and be someone you're not."

"I've seen you enough that I kno-" he stopped as Kyle's finger pressed against his lips and a small, sad smile hit the Drow's face.

"No, you don't. Otherwise you _never_ would have attacked Kendra like that..." he sighed, moving forward and placing his head against Stan's chest. The ranger gulped, wrapping his arms around the Drow and holding him tightly, eyes clenched shut in misery. "Stan, this is happening whether you approve or not," Kyle reminded him. "I need you. I need you to be supportive. This is hard enough for me without having you against me as well."

Stan gulped, nuzzling down into his wild curls. "You don't seem to be having too hard of a time," he muttered.

"I'm trying to make the best of the situation," he murmured, closing his eyes and letting Stan's familiar warmth envelop him.

The ranger took a deep breath, opening his eyes and staring across the room dully as he let the prince's words settle on him uneasily. "Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

He bit his lip, terrified of a coming answer. "Are you falling for her?"

The room fell deathly silent, the boys clinging onto each other just a little tighter in the heavy tension trying to push them apart from each other. Kyle let out a shaking breath, reopening his eyes into Stan's armor, letting himself slide his gaze along the twisting design of his breastplate. Finally, a meek reply broke through, both of them closing their eyes again and delving their heads deeper against one another, afraid to lose the closeness all at once from the implication: _"I don't know."_

* * *

Maybe on another day, Eric would have been perfectly content with sitting and watching person by person passing along by his window. He'd catch his citizens staring up at his grand home in jealousy, just _wishing_ that they could indulge in such a lavish lifestyle as that of their monarch.

_Too bad, so sad._

However, today he just couldn't seem to _care_. Something was feeling off, he just couldn't seem to put his finger on it. He glanced over to see Garrison knocking on the frame of his door. "You wanted something?" the duke asked in boredom.

"I need your counsel," he said blandly, listlessly waving to the chair beside of him. The duke sighed to himself. This was the worst part of his job, in fact really the _only_ part, but one that wasn't overly enjoyable nonetheless. Luckily for him, the pay kept him seated enough to at least _pretend_ to be interested.

"All right, what is it this time?" he asked, plopping down in the chair and leaning his cheek into his palm.

The king didn't meet his gaze, flickering down towards the people passing by and sighing tiredly. "My mom."

Garrison nearly jerked back in shock, clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure. The king had nearly banned all talk of Liane from his palace since her funeral, proclaiming that their job was not to wallow in the past. "What about her?" he managed to work out smoothly.

"How did she get so much respect?" he asked, brow furrowing. "Everyone knew of her past, but our people still _adored_ her." He grit his teeth just slightly, cheeks flushing. The entire kingdom, as well as outlying lands, knew well enough of Queen Liane's endeavors when she was merely a princess. Passing her time in the company of dukes and sailors alike, garnishing quite the taste for wine and pleasantries with men. It'd been a scandal like no other in Kupa Keep's history. But as Eric had learned, when she'd taken the throne and calmed herself down, all bad press seemed to come to a grinding halt. She became beloved almost overnight, something that Eric had not yet been born to see, but had heard well enough time and again.

Herbert blinked, clearing his throat once more and shifting in his seat. "She was kind and cared very much for the people, Eric," he said quietly.

"How did they change their opinions so _quickly_ , though?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at a couple of children stopping and making faces up towards the castle. He growled as one particularly brave girl flipped off the walls and the group ran off giggling.

He shrugged, "She managed to calm the masses when your grandfather died."

"Calm the masses," he repeated blandly.

The duke nodded, "King Harold...did not leave Queen Mabel with much to rule," he said slowly. "Your grandmother literally couldn't handle the responsibility, so she passed it onto your mother without Liane even _knowing_ ," he rolled his eyes. "Bitch move if you ask me."

"'Ay, watch it," he warned. "Grandma-"

"Spoiled the shit out of you, I know," he scoffed. "Left you _way_ too many jewels in my opinion."

"I wasn't _asking_ for your opinion, I'm asking for the story!" he snapped.

Garrison waved him off and sighed. "Anyway, your grandpa was the second of the Cartmans to hold power, and didn't know how to handle it. He was already grown when your family came into the throne, so he was never trained properly. Kupa Keep had barely recovered from the Great War as it was, and he couldn't handle fiscal management or anything of the sort. We were on the brink of collapse if we're being completely honest," he shrugged. "Your family was used to things just being handed to them when you were all just marquesses and lords and whatnot," he waved dismissively.

"What does my mom have to do with that?" he rolled his eyes.

"Will ya let me get there?" he snapped. "God, Eric, ya can't just jump into the goddamn climax, let there be some buildup first! This just _proves_ how much of a damn Cartman you are."

He narrowed his amber eyes in warning, "Watch it, Duke."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved him off. "Anyway. Your mom goes through her coronation and on the first night, there's supposed to be a grand ball for the upper class, you know," he shrugged. "You remember your own, no doubt," he said dryly and Eric smirked smugly.

Indeed he did. Filled with gold, dancing subjects, mountains of lavish food and drink piled upon tables and plates alike. It'd been a work of wonder, sitting atop the highest throne, his crown so proudly set upon his head as he watched the band playing, the maidens of the land dancing with their swooping skirts swishing so elegantly across the polished marble floor of their grand hall. It'd been a glorious night that'd lasted until sunrise and all were too drunk and full to even _think_ of partying any longer. One to last through the ages, subjects had said.

Garrison watched him fondly reminiscing and shook his head. "Well, your _mom_ didn't want it to be so exclusive." The brunette shook out of his memories and blinked at him in shock. "She wanted it to be a new beginning for the _entire_ kingdom, not just herself and the royal court. So she held the ball down in town, taking expenses from her own personal vault to pay the bars and food vendors to provide for them. It was actually kind of amazing, what I can remember anyway," he snorted. "It was my first coronation party so I got pretty loaded pretty fast."

"What a shock," he rolled his eyes.

Garrison shrugged dismissively, "Anyway. She set the example that night that _everyone_ was going to be treated fairly, regardless of their upbringing. It was something that your family _desperately_ needed, less you be usurped from the throne like the royals before you," he hitched his brow. "She was a mess of a princess, but she was a fantastic queen. It's how she and Queen Sheila forged such a friendship."

"Blech," he stuck his tongue out in distaste. "I figured those Drow fuckers came begging for money."

"Other way around, actually," he said superiorly, watching Eric's face falling in despair. "Whenever Queen Sheila and Prince Kyle came to visit, your mother was showing Sheila around the kingdom and explaining our financial situation. The Drow Queen is actually the one who helped us get back on our feet because we were treading water for so long. She appreciates anyone who can come from a darkened background and gain such respect as your mother had, that's the only reason we haven't fallen into financial ruin."

Cartman blinked rapidly, a nausea rising in his gullet. "But those Larnion fuckers can barely make their own ends meet!"

"Because of us," he continued. "They're stable enough, they live off of the bare necessities for the most part," he reminded him. "The king and queen came to the agreement to share some of their financial profit from the Great War with us to help us rebuild, so long as we promised some of our soil, to _stay out of their forest_ ," he raised his brow, watching the king shifting uncomfortably, "and a promise to build a future together somewhere down the line."

Eric's face was twisted in disgust, looking out over his kingdom, eyes flittering across the shops he could see from his view. "We're built on dirty money," he whispered.

Garrison sighed, "No. We're built on money from potential allies. Big difference."

"Elves are _not_ that giving, especially that Jew sect!" he spat, hopping to his feet and pacing in worried thought. "They could turn this against us."

"They didn't even _mention_ it when you went to arrange the princess to Prince Kyle," he reminded him firmly. "Elves don't expect payback, they just expect your respect, Eric."

"What if they consider Kendra to _be_ the payback?! What if they think I'm _thanking_ them for this?!"

"And what if they do?" he blinked at him. "For fucks sake, Eric, you're the one who's _promoting_ this union! You've spread word around the kingdom already! Probably faster than Kyle and Kendra are presenting themselves to Larnion!"

He stopped and glared at him, "What if they consider us handing Kendra over to make us even? And then, they decide 'well, they don't owe us now' and decide that they can wage war?!"

He put his face into his palm and sighed irritatedly. "Eric. They _won't_." He said firmly. He looked up at his frantic monarch and rolled his eyes, getting to his feet and putting his hands on his shoulders. "Look at me!" he snapped, waiting for those amber irises to find his own. "Look, the Larnion's do _not want war_. They just want to live peacefully, all right? And they're going to be _far_ too busy getting Kendra acclimated to their race to even fucking _think_ about waging war."

"So acclimated that they turn her against us?!" he spat. "She's still a princess of Kupa Keep, Garrison!"

"Not once her and Kyle tie the knot," he rolled his eyes. "Then she's Larnion's and only 'ours' by heritage. Are you regretting this already?" he demanded. "What you did was the _right thing_."

"I don't want the elves to think we're weak!" he snapped. "Giving them a figure of royalty so _easily_...They probably think we'll hand them anything!"

"Oh for God's sake," he murmured, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Will you _please_ calm down?"

"Look, just...just get out," he spat exhaustedly, shoving the duke off of him.

Garrison watched him for a few moments before frowning. "Fine. Stay here and wallow in your fucking stupidity, Eric. Figures the one time you do the _right_ fucking thing, something that your _mother_ would have done, you fucking pull this shit." Cartman gritted his teeth, fists clenching against his sides as Garrison whirled on his heel and made way out of his room, slamming the door behind him.

The king looked back out his window and shook his head angrily. Unbelievable. No _wonder_ his mother didn't fucking tell him where the influx of money had come from. He knew that it'd come from another land, but he didn't expect _this shit_.

He yelped as his arm was snared and he was wrenched from the window, tossed back into his room and landing in a tangled heap on the ground. "The fuck!" he shouted, scrambling up onto his knees and lips parting to scream for his guards before glancing up at his attacker, finding furious red eyes glaring down on him. He met the ferocity point for point as he made way back onto his feet. "The fuck do you want, Damien?" he hissed.

"The fuck are _you_ trying to pull?!" he snapped back. "Are you _trying_ to make our plans go to shit?!"

"I have a serious problem with the _elves_ being more respected in my fucking kingdom than _I_ am!" he snapped.

Damien narrowed his eyes, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

He sighed in aggravation, gesturing towards his window. "Talk of Kahl and Kinny. It's _everywhere_."

"As you wanted it to be," he raised his brow suspiciously.

He bit a thin lip roughly, staring down at his carpet and an angry breath seeping through his nostrils. "They're _happy_ ," he hissed. "People talking of how the elves treat everyone so _fairly_ or some shit," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I don't get it! We're _supposed_ to hate them!"

Damien rolled his eyes, "Only the eldest two generations hate elves, Fatboy, the rest don't fucking _care_."

"They seem to!" he protested. "Talking about being _paid_ for working in the palace and all this other shit that I'm not willing to give them!"

He shrugged casually, "Word of kindness spreads slower than evil, but it spreads nonetheless. People tend to gravitate towards such things," he rolled his eyes again. Fucking humans. All the same, never wanting to settle for a medium, only wanting one of the two extremes.

"Well what do I do then?" he grit his teeth. "I'm losing favor!"

Damien sighed, "When you come into the power you desire, such things won't matter."

"I have a _lot_ of time between then and now."

"Hm...not as much as you may think," he smirked.

Eric blinked at him, "Whaddya mean?"

He chuckled and tongued over his fangs, "Little Prince is falling just as we wished," he purred. "Kenneth's already molding him just fine."

The king looked at him skeptically, "Already?"

"Mhmm," he nodded. "Holding Kenneth's hand, defending him against his precious little ranger...He's turning into clay. He just needs watered down a bit more," he hiked his brow.

Cartman straightened up, eyes gleaming. "How?" he asked excitedly. "It's been so little time!"

"Hm, yes, well...That may be a problem in of itself," Damien said dryly, sliding over towards a chair and plopping down onto it, swinging his foot over the arm listlessly. "Seems its going both ways."

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Seems our dear little Kenneth is going the same route," he relayed, watching Cartman's face falling.

He blinked, "Wait. You don't think Kinny would-"

"I don't know," he cut him off. "It's between my little prince and his sister, so I can't be sure which way he'll fall." He cracked his fingers and sighed, looking at his claws disinterestedly. "I suggest you send a note of some sort, King-boy. Remind him of his mission. Risking him wanting to protect the prince could set us back a bit. Or, at least _you_. I'm set no matter what," he said smugly.

The brunette narrowed his eyes, "Oh, is that so? And if I send an armada after you?"

"I use my pretty little prince as a meat shield," he replied without missing a beat.

" _My_ people won't care if it's Kahl in their way."

"Oh? From the way you're talking...seems as though they'd sooner cut _you_ down than one who could bring them such kindness," the Olath drawled, smirking at Cartman's angry bristling. He sighed, hopping back onto his feet and stretching, feeling his vertebrae popping and rolling his shoulders contentedly. "Either way, our joined method makes things easier on both accounts, so I'd rather your end didn't fail, Your Majesty." He watched Cartman's worried expression and sighed. "Look, just _remind_ him of his mission and of his sister. Whether or not he falls for the little prince is moot. Don't _threaten_ him away from that, because it _could_ make it all the more fun," he smirked, waving off Cartman's skeptical stare. "Trust me, I can work with either side. But...if they _do_ happen to fall for each other...My side will be _so_ much more simple," he purred deviously.

"And if my people decide to revolt?" he demanded lowly.

Damien chuckled, "They won't. Not once things finally get set into motion."

"A lot can happen in five months," he said wearily, eyes flickering to the outside world.

"Hm, yes," he grinned devilishly, red eyes dancing with mischief. "Indeed it can."


	17. Inherited Approbation

Making his way through the courtyard towards the training grounds, Stan nodded to each elven soldier greeting him. He couldn't help but smirk to himself, a smug pride settled within him that reminded him that between the now seven humans residing in the land, he was the second most respected. Prince Ike would always be above him and he was perfectly content with that, he adored the little Canadian. All that mattered to him was being above _her_. Royalty or not, she was definitely not a favorite like Stan had managed to craft himself as in the last fifteen years. Elves admired him, respected him. They looked up to him for advice and guidance, everyone knowing that he was the beloved eldest prince's right hand man. Kyle carried too much influence over the people for his ranger's status to be brushed off as a mere happenstance.

Clyde and Token were right under his own stance, being a main inner-walls guard and a cleric pushed them through the thrall of hesitance into the light of the Drow. The three of them had been found together, raised together, and had broken through the barricades of mistrust together. Stan tongued over his lips, fingers casually thrumming on his sword's hilt. It was a question he so rarely visited, the one of just _why_ the three of them were the only ones alive when they'd been found in the elven forests. A group of hunters had found them curled up and crying with each other. According to the stories they'd been told, they were bathing in the blood of their parents. Rogues had been to blame, every ounce of currency and food swiped from wagons and off pockets alike.

The toddlers had been brought back out of sympathy to be shown to the king and queen. Stan could just barely remember how that day had been. He'd been cold, bathed in a creek and dressed in a hunter's robe wrapped around him several times as he stood between Token and Clyde. Clyde was still crying and Token was hiding behind Stan's shoulder. Stan was just silent and frightened, staring at the tall dignitaries as they calmly questioned their soldiers about what had been found among the children. Queen Sheila had tried asking them questions, the three of them just too scared to answer.

Then came their saving grace; a bumbling little redhead dressed in robes too long coming up into the room to his parents. The toddling group had watched him fumble up to his mother and pull on her robes, asking when they were having lunch. Sheila had told him to wait just a moment and he'd pouted before the bunch caught his eye. He'd looked to the three of them and cocked his head curiously.

" _Who're they_?" Kyle had asked.

Sheila had smiled sadly, patting his head. " _They were found in the woods, Bubbie."_

" _Oh,"_ he'd said simply, hiking up his robes and stalking in front of Stan. Stan remembered with a smirk how that'd probably been one of the last times that they'd matched heights as Kyle stared straight into his eyes. A small smile had crept up the Drow's face, " _You're human_ ," he'd stated.

Stan had nodded shyly, _"You're an...elf."_

" _Yup!"_ he'd grinned. He'd turned and looked at Sheila and Gerald watching them carefully. Kyle had never _met_ another human, and a part of them couldn't help but be absolutely terrified that he'd react in fright. _"Are they staying for lunch?"_

Gerald had laughed softly, relief flooding the room, _"Maybe even longer."_

" _Cool_ ," he'd said, turning and smiling wider. " _I'm Kyle."_

" _Stan_ ," had come the quiet reply. He remembered being so _delighted_ that this elf was his own size, that he was talking to him like he was just another Drow that'd wandered into his palace. _"They're Clyde and...and Token,"_ he'd introduced the other two who waved shyly.

Kyle had nodded, looking between the three of them and landing on Clyde, face dropping into a frown and moving over towards him. " _Stop crying,"_ he'd said in a pleading tone. Clyde had sniffled and looked down embarrassedly. Stan remembered watching the wheels turn in that head for the first time, Kyle trying to process watching a human exuding the same emotions that elves did. He'd told him years later that he'd grown up on stories of humans being emotionless, never wanting to do anything but go towards their goals with a stone-face and a colder heart. Kyle had bit his lip, " _Do you like aiqy?"_

Stan had cocked his head confusedly, " _What's...aqualy?"_

The prince had scoffed, " _No,_ _ **aiqy**_ _. It's a cake. We have some, you can have some if you want,"_ he'd offered.

The king and queen had smiled proudly at their boy, shaking their heads amusedly. _"Bubbeleh, why don't you take them to get some?"_ Sheila had offered.

Kyle had nodded, reaching down and grabbing Stan's hand, starting to haul him off with the other two latching onto Stan's loose clothing. The prince had told the three of them years later that he remembered only offering because he wanted some because he was sick of waiting for lunch, the four of them cracking up with each other and recalling how Kyle had gotten lost in his own home, taking them the wrong way and covering it up as a tour before finding the damn kitchen.

Stan sighed happily to himself, kicking a stray rock out of his path. Kyle was _happy_ to meet him, and the same certainly couldn't be said about Kendra, Craig, or Butters. The three of them were earning their own respects, but at a much slower rate than the orphan children had so long ago. He'd told it to Craig and he'd take it to his grave: He was _raised_ as an elf, so he'd _always_ have that upper hand over the people. Unlike this new royal addition, he could speak fairly fluent Elvish. He could solve problems the _Drow_ way. He worshipped the same spirits that they did, regardless of his inability to connect with them on the natural level that the elves could. Kyle called he and the other two 'elves with stunted ears' for most of their lifetimes, and they believed it. None of them had so much as an urge to explore out into their 'homelands', no interest in learning the ways of the humans. They loved their home, and they loved _their_ people.

Princess Kendra could _never_ fall into place so flawlessly. She was tainted, forever bound to the humans in a way that Stan had never been. He sighed to himself, wishing that the king and queen had realized this before arranging such a bizarre interracial marriage.

"Ranger Stanley!" a gruff voice called. He whipped around to see his commander approaching, giving him a small bow.

"Captain Murphy, you called for me?" he said politely.

The elder smiled and nodded, waving off the formalities. "I did. You have a trainee."

Stan jerked back in shock, blinking rapidly. _Trainee?_ "I've never trained anyone in my life," he reminded him with a cocked brow.

"Well, it's time to start," he said, waving behind him. Stan glanced, seeing a well-built brunette elf stalking towards them, a stern expression over a recently-scrubbed face. "Stanley, this is Christophe, a new recruit," he introduced them, putting a hand on the newbie's shoulder. Christophe looked at the hand, giving a subtle sneer before turning back to face his new commander standing at his height.

"Isn't he a little _old_ to _just now_ be recruited?" Stan asked skeptically.

He shrugged, "He's orphaned, been living out in the wilds all on his own since he was a child. He wants to make something of himself, isn't that right, Christophe?"

"Oui," he nodded curtly. "A pleasure to meet you, Sir Stanley," he said, accent drawing thickly between the small cluster.

Stan nodded slowly, "Okay...what am I training him for?"

Murphy shifted a bit and cleared his throat, "To be your backup for Prince Kyle's protection." He winced, seeing that protective streak flaring within Stan's eyes.

"That's not necessary," he said lowly. " _I_ am all that the prince needs."

"Stanley, this is not up for discussion," he said sharply. "The prince is approaching his age of rule, and his protection _has_ to be upped. He needs more than just you when he takes the throne."

Stan narrowed his eyes, "Queen Sheila and King Gerald only have one guard each!" he protested.

"Oui, but z'hey are not taking a 'uman bride," Christophe reminded him suavely. Stan looked at his lesser and blinked, the elf shrugging nonchalantly. "Zhe prince's safety eez a concern of us all, Sir Stanley. And we do not know zhe possibilities z'hat could spawn from z'his union."

The ranger sighed irritably. "Well maybe that should've been put into higher consideration before deciding on marriage," he grumbled.

"That is not your choice to make, Stanley," Murphy reminded him sternly. "Now you are to train Christophe to follow your method of protecting Prince Kyle. Do you understand me?"

Stan straightened up, letting out a long breath through his nose and nodding, "Yes, Sir."

He nodded back, "Good. I expect reports," he said, turning on his heel and stalking away.

The two soldiers looked at each other, Stan eying him warily. "I don't recall seeing you on the training grounds."

"I tend to keep to myself," he parried off easily. "I work better when I am not being crowded."

Stan twisted his lips, turning and folding his finger for Christophe to walk with him. "Then are you _sure_ you want to be a guard for a prince? Your job _requires_ you to be constantly surrounded by people, dignitaries or otherwise."

"Oui, I owe much to ze royal family," he shrugged as they turned the corner to walk into a side door. They both nodded at the guards letting them pass through as he continued, "Were it not for z'heir kindness, I would still be living in ze forest."

"Well, they are very kind," Stan nodded softly in agreement, running his hand through his hair. "Look, Prince Kyle isn't the... _simplest_ of people to guard," he said carefully.

"Oh? 'ow so?"

Stan crossed his arms and shrugged, leading him through the halls. "He's not fond of being coddled. He has a lot of little signals to tell you to take a step back. If you miss them, he'll give you the slip and it'll take you a good ten minutes or so to find him."

"Ah, ze prince eez a free spirit, no?"

He shook his head, "Not quite. If he was, he would be hightailing it out of here to get away from this marriage. He just doesn't like people treating him like he can't do anything for himself. He's never really _been_ in a lot of danger, so he doesn't quite understand that there _are_ threats out there towards him and his throne."

Christophe hid a grin, concealing it with a solemn grunt, "Let us just 'ope 'e never 'as to learn of such truths."

"Exactly. Which is what my...well...now I guess _our_ job is," he rolled his eyes. "Look, my advice for now is to just observe what I do," he shrugged. "It's a bunch of little stuff, since I assume you know how to use your sword."

"I 'ighly doubt ze commander would 'ave put me in z'his position eef I did not," he scoffed.

Stan snorted, "True." A familiar tone perked his ears and he looked up, seeing Kyle and Kendra standing and talking with Craig and Butters, the group laughing softly. Stan shook his head, seeing his prince overwhelmingly outnumbered by these foreign humans. He bit the inside of his cheek, wondering if he was a goddamn racist of all things against his own species. "My prince!" he called.

Kyle whipped his head to the side and smiled, "There you are. Been looking for ya. We're gonna get some lunch if you wanna tag along," he offered.

Stan smiled warmly and nodded, leading Christophe towards the group, "I would."

Kyle's eyes drifted to the brunette next to him, blinking in confusion at the guard's armor over the stockily built boy. He didn't recognize this boy at _all_. "Hello," he greeted in bewilderment.

"'ello, Prince Kyle," he bowed.

"Don't...don't do that," Kyle laughed awkwardly and waved him back up, Christophe's murky eyes locking on him steadily as he raised back tall. He cleared his throat, "Are you a new guard?" he questioned.

"Oui," he nodded briskly.

"He's my understudy," Stan rolled his eyes.

Kyle's lips crept into a knowing smirk. "Wow, I can't believe you would actually _allow_ someone else to even _hypothetically_ watch me."

His ranger chuckled, "Well, it wasn't by choice. This is Christophe," he gestured to the brunette. "Murphy wants me to train him for you to accept as another guard."

"Ah," he nodded in understanding. "Well, I trust your judgement above my own in these matters, so I'll let _you_ make the final call," he promised. He turned back to Christophe and cocked his head. "So, do you hail from the French district of Canada?" he questioned.

Christophe blinked, "And why do you assume z'hat, Your Highness?"

Kyle shrugged, "First off, Stan, fill him in on title rules down the line, all right?" Stan chuckled and nodded. "Second, your accent," he waved towards him. "We have no French families within Larnion. So where are you from?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly, "I was originally from z'here, oui. But I was orphaned and lived in ze outskirts before coming 'ere."

Kyle's face fell sympathetically, "I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "So many people are orphaned nowadays, it's awful," he glanced around at the surrounding group who all nodded solemnly. The redhead caught Kendra's steady stare at the new guard, seeing her brows furrowed just slightly.

She couldn't place her finger on it, but something about this just seemed... _off_. Christophe's eyes were locked on the prince, muddied hazel sharply cutting through him. There was such an austere manner about him, one that made her shudder from the intensity. She bit her lip, hand slowly reaching over to grab Kyle's and squeeze it pointedly. Kyle cocked his head. "Kendra? You okay?"

The princess looked down at him and nodded, Kyle easily reading that she was lying through glistening crystal eyes and setting his lips firmly. "Can you all give us a few minutes?" he requested, snagging paper and her quill from Butter's hands. He tightened his grip on her fingers, starting to drag her away from the befuddled group watching after them in silence.

"Whaddya think's wrong with 'em?" Butters blinked.

"Maybe they're running off to make out," Craig scoffed, shooting a smirk at Stan's glowering.

Kyle managed to get her over to a table in the corridor and set her materials down on it. "Kendra, what's wrong?" he demanded. "You look scared to shit."

She looked at him with a wince, wondering if _everyone_ could read her that easily. She sighed, grasping the quill and writing out her concerns. _'Look, please don't say anything to anyone. But Christophe is just giving me an off vibe. Something about the way he's looking at you...I don't like it.'_

Kyle cocked his head, blinking up at her worried face. He smirked, "What? Got a problem someone else is lookin' at me?" he teased.

' _Kyle, for once, I'm being serious.'_

His smile dropped and he watched her carefully. Kyle let out a long breath and scratched through his hair. "Look, don't think that I'm saying your opinion doesn't matter, because it does. But Commander Murphy's opinion _also_ matters," he winced. "I trust that man with my life...literally," he rolled his eyes. "And Stan will always be with him until I see one way or the other how he intends to guard _both_ of us, okay?" he assured her. She looked away worriedly and his hand came up to her cheek, guiding her face back towards his. "Give it a few weeks," he said softly. "Then if you feel the same, I'll tell Stan that it's just not working out. Is that acceptable?"

She nodded, flickering her eyes to the hand still on her buccinator and back towards him with a smirk. His skin tone switched in an instant, jerking his hand back like from hot coals. "Don't _even_ ," he warned. She laughed, running her fingers through his hair teasingly and watching him sinking lightly. He snapped back into alert, batting her away, "Knock it off!" She laughed harder, leaning down and bumping their shoulders together. He rolled his eyes, "How the fuck do you do that?"

She scrawled a quick note, sliding it along the table. _'How do I keep seducing you? Well it's easy when one gets riled so easily as you, My dear.'_

"I _meant_ how do you switch emotions so quickly," he growled, bristling under his robes. "And _seducing?"_ he repeated. "You have a _hell_ of a high opinion of yourself, don't you?"

' _I'm merely basing this on results. I have you all hot and bothered and all I did was pet your hair,'_ she wriggled her brows.

He stammered a bit before rolling his eyes with a groan. "Remind me to stop going to places alone with you."

' _That is the exact opposite of what you want and you know it. Just wait until you_ _ **do**_ _want me all to yourself,'_ she shot him a wink, turning to walk back down the hall towards their group without another word. Kyle stared after her, words caught and his face overheating. He finally slumped with a tired sigh, grabbing the note and shoving it into his robe pocket, snagging her quill to follow back after her.

He came back around the corner, catching Christophe staring at him right off and nearly doubling back in shock. Kyle kept their eyes locked for a moment before having to break off, letting his gaze fall back easily to Kendra and Stan. She gave him a knowing look, one that just screamed, ' _do you see what I mean?'_ He gulped, straightening up and making his way back to the bunch, refusing to let that intimidating stare make him buckle yet again. He shook his head to himself, that was just unneeded to add into the mix to make him falter. He already had two sets of blue to do that for him.


	18. Concomitantly Thriving

Maybe there was something to be said about the wonder of solitude that so few others around him seemed to understand. Kyle took a long, deep breath in the resounding quiet, ears perked for the sounds of Stan and Christophe trailing after him from managing to give them the slip. Listening to Stan constantly instructing the brunette on distance regulations and Kyle's different tendencies was just wearing on his last nerve. It'd been a week of the constant lessons, Stan seeming to pull a different one out of the air every few minutes. So far, all seemed to be going fairly well, however. Stan trusted Christophe enough to let him walk beside himself as opposed to behind so he could act as Kyle's shield. The Frenchman _seemed_ to be adapting to life as a royal guard, though the prince could definitely pick up some frustration in his murky gaze. He chuckled to himself, knowing full and well that it was more likely than not spawning from his ranger constantly snapping at him for edging too closely to Kyle for his liking.

"Sup," a voice poked through his comforting loneliness. He turned to see Ike leaning against the doorframe, chomping on a ruby apple.

"Can I help you?" he scoffed.

The boy shrugged, smacking his lips. "Dunno, I'm bored." He looked up and down the hall and smirked, "You escape your guard, too?"

"Filmore finally driving you crazy?" he teased as the Canadian walked up beside of him.

Ike rolled his eyes, "Fucking shit, Ky, it's so irritating. Murphy yelled at him for 'not being vigilant enough', so he's like a goddamn parasite."

He laughed, patting his head sympathetically. "Figures, your _one_ guard finally matches the annoyance of Stan and my number increases," he huffed as they continued down the corridor together.

The younger nodded, taking another chomp of his apple. "So, why are you gettin' more protection? Your tiny ass on the line or something?"

He frowned down at him humorlessly. "I don't know, but I can only _assume_ that it's because of Kendra."

He snorted, "What? She gonna strangle ya? Bout damn time, surprised you didn't annoy her to that point sooner," he nudged him teasingly.

"No, you dickweed," he rolled his eyes. "I'm sure there's kingdoms out there that aren't particularly _happy_ about the two of us. They probably think that this increases the threat against me when I take the throne."

Ike nodded a bit, scratching his neck, "Yourself included?"

Kyle cocked his brow, "Whaddya mean?"

"I _mean_ are you unhappy, too?" he questioned quietly. "You seem to be taking this whole thing... _well_ ," he winced, waving towards him aimlessly. "When Mom told you what you'd be doing, you almost lost your shit. Now you're just kinda...accepting it," he drawled. "You gonna repress this until your brain explodes or what?"

Kyle blinked, twisting his lips in the slightest and straightening himself up in his dignified posture, Ike rolling his eyes at the show. "I'm not unhappy," he said quietly. "Would I have preferred my own choice and to do things the usual way for the elves? Yes. But...I'm okay with being tied down to her."

He cocked his brow, "Seriously? You remember she's human, right?"

"Uh, are you forgetting what _you_ are?" he reminded him. Ike pouted and Kyle placed his hand on his shoulder. "Ike, this is just what we do," he said softly. "One day _you'll_ have to sacrifice something for your country, and you'll get one of these damn things," he pulled his silver necklace from under his robe, displaying it in the soft lighting of the halls. He stared at the branch and sighed, closing his hand around the charm. "We sacrifice for our people, Ike. It's what being royalty is about."

"Has any other elf had to sacrifice like this?" he asked softly.

He shrugged, "What about our great grandmother? She put her life force into the Stick to balance its powers," he raised his brow. "She was catatonic until she died, and she made the ultimate sacrifice to make sure that it couldn't be used against the elven race in the Great War. I _think_ that if she could go that far, I can marry Kendra, ya know?" he winced.

He smirked sadly, "That's what you keep telling yourself, huh?"

"Sometimes you have to remind yourselves that others have suffered more. It keeps you level-headed," he explained. "Like I said, you'll get it one day when you start working towards ruling your own country."

Ike scoffed, "Yeah, I'm not sure how that's gonna work. I thought that _I_ would be the only one with a weird lineage problem down the line. Didn't know you'd be beating me to the punch."

Kyle nodded softly in agreement. It was true, and it was something that had deeply troubled him for years. Ike finding acceptance among a human kingdom down the way with his upbringing would be a monumental task, the redhead had been trying to formulate a strategy for him for so long. Now, it seemed as though the answer had been handed to him on a sparkling blue platter. "Well, now maybe it'll be easier for you," he assured him. "When your season comes about, Kendra and I will have been married for years and making our headway to the throne. People will most likely respect our union, see how well we treat her, and realize that you have a good head on your shoulders. What matters is how you present yourself through it all," he shrugged.

Ike nodded, "Yeah, I guess. Though I hate those fancy clothes as much as you do," he rolled his eyes.

Kyle snorted, "Yeah, well, sacrifice."

He chuckled, taking another bite of his apple and looking ahead of them, cocking his head. "Speaking of presenting, there's the crowning jewel herself," he rolled his eyes amusedly.

Kyle followed his stare, looking to see Kendra standing down the way, eyes set unblinking at the wall. She was glowing in the sunlight beaming through the window behind her, illuminating her silver gown like a wave breaking through a summer lake. Kyle bit his lip, eyes hitting her face and taking a deep breath. Something was going on here, and he just couldn't put his finger on it. He shook his head to himself and gulped, "Kendra?" he called, the princess shooting her attention over. She smiled brightly at the approaching princes, waving joyously.

"I'll give her this: She's excitable," Ike smirked. "Balances out your moodiness nicely."

"Fuck off," he muttered, shoving him a bit.

Ike chuckled, nodding to the girl as they came up beside her. "Princess," he greeted with a tiny bow. "I'll leave you two to suck face," he waved at them dismissively, walking around them and Craig standing down the way of the hall continuing on his way.

Kyle rolled his eyes in embarrassment. "Little nuisance," he grumbled, jerking back at a paper shoved under his nose.

' _Didn't know Ike could read my mind_ ,' she teased.

He looked up at her wryly, "Seriously? Can I get _one_ word from you that _isn't_ your perverted nonsense before you start?" She shook her head with a smirk and he sighed tiredly. "What're you up to?" he looked to follow her stare, finding the large hunter green tapestry draping from the wall presenting the Larnion sigil. Two bright copper foxes trailed down, mirror images with bushy tails twisted along one another's and intricately stitched chocolate eyes staring at each other as they ran.

He looked as her hand pointed to the red words stitched in elegant swoops: ' _Areion arlathil udos naeardon, areion uss jalbyr udos dro'._ She cocked her head interestedly and he smirked. "Roughly it means, 'Through nature we breathe, through one another we live'. Corny as _shit_ , ain't it?" he chuckled.

She smiled, laughing along with him as she scribbled another message. _'Any particular reason why it's_ _ **so**_ _corny?'_

"Aside from the fact that _most_ clan slogans are?" he shrugged with a small grin. "It's the elven way," he explained. "Nature lives through us, we give it our power and in return it gives us its essence." He grasped the leaf of a large tiger stripe resting in a ceramic pot beside of him, stroking over the epidermis genially. "Only with _combined_ life force being given back to the earth can any species hope to thrive..." he trailed off, looking down at the green leaf brushing over his palm. "That's why we're so wary of humans," he murmured sadly. "They only want to industrialize. They want to press the lands back, force it to bow to their whim, when it _should_ be the other way around. Or at least...balance should be met," he looked up at her intensive staring and sighed. "Then again, why should I tell you that? You're from one of the most industrialized cities in the world."

She looked down and away guiltily, listlessly writing him another note. _'If it makes you feel any better, I'd prefer a garden over a bakery any day.'_

He smiled, laughing softly. "Good thing, we have a lot more trees than we do buildings in Larnion." He looked down at the plant, frowning at a dying leave crumpled and shriveled towards the bottom of the stalk. He dropped down onto his knees, waving for Kendra to follow him. She blinked, doing so and scooting up beside him. "You know why plants are so great?" he asked quietly.

She snagged her paper and quill from the table and brought them down next to her. _'Because... they're pretty?'_

He snorted, "Well, there is _that_ I suppose. But no. When humans and elves alike die, we stay dead, right?" She winced, but nodded along with him anyway. "Plants...they can be brought back," he smiled softly. "They're a constant loop of reincarnation. If it's the same essence that's brought back, who knows? It could very well be the life of a dying redwood that inhabits a tulip that withered and was watered back to life."

' _Are you telling me that plants have souls?'_ she questioned.

Kyle looked at her, expecting a sarcastic, dry look. Instead he found himself staring at genuine curiosity, the princess seeming to soak in his every word. He smiled and shrugged, "I don't know. I couldn't tell you. But what I _can_ tell you is that a plant is _never_ just a plant. It's an entire life. You can _feel_ it." She cocked her brow skeptically and he chuckled, grabbing her hand and placing it over the dead leaf, clasping it between his own hands with the frond fit snugly between their palms. "Just feel," he instructed, closing his eyes for a moment before reopening them, Kendra nearly jerking back in shock at a light glow of green emitting from his irises. She looked down, Kyle's hands enveloped in the same ghastly shade and her jaw dropped in the slightest.

She bit her lip nervously as she felt movement against her palm, eyes widening as she watched withered brow beginning to fade back into spring green. The stem inflated once more, the leaf flattening out and becoming smooth as silk as though freshly popped from its soil. A gulp receded down her throat and she looked to see Kyle's eyes once again shut, a content smile over his face. She licked her lips, doing the same and letting her lids slip closed. She furrowed her brow, feeling a tingle rushing through her palm even through her silk gloves. It trickled through her skin, rushing along the lines of her hand and through her arm. A calming warmth swept through her entire body, worries and nerves taken by the tide. It went almost as quickly as it came, both of them reopening their eyes to the leaf. Kyle took his hands back as his glow faded, Kendra doing the same and both of them staring at Kyle's 'newborn'.

He turned to her, "Did you feel it?" he asked.

She nodded, in complete shock. Her hand shakily went to her quill, biting her lip as she handed an inquiry to him. _'Why doesn't it feel like that all the time?'_

Kyle laughed softly, "Because you're not an elf," he elaborated. "When you're connected with one of us, you can get a taste of what we feel when we connect with nature. That's why we live like this," he gestured around, Kendra taking note of trees sprawling through floors, flowers and vines creeping along the walls. "We _breathe_ in this setting. We _live_. And we only hope that they feel the same," he continued. He paused, smile fading just a bit. "Maybe it's all corny to you...but that's how we are. How _I_ am," he shrugged sheepishly. "The words are ridiculously sentimental...but the meaning is _real_ ," he emphasized.

She grinned softly, _'I don't think it's corny. It's nice to be somewhere where things_ _ **mean**_ _something other than them just being another possession.'_

The prince blushed slightly, "I know King Fat-tits wasn't one for holding things with value other than for profit. It's...surprising that you're not the same way," he admitted.

' _A good surprise_?' she questioned teasingly.

He laughed and nodded, "Yeah. It's a _really_ good one."

Kendra smiled wider, scooting closer to him, their legs pressed up against one another's. Kyle gulped, trying to settle nonchalantly as she crafted him another note. _'So that's your awe-inspiring magic, huh?'_

He rolled his eyes, "Look, that's the simplest spell in the book, all right? One of the first that Drow children learn. Nothing to be impressed with."

' _I'd say bringing things to life is pretty amazing,'_ she shrugged at him.

Kyle shifted and cleared his throat, brushing his bangs back and letting them flop back onto his forehead. "I mean...I guess?" he winced. "At least from a human's perspective. I know a lot more than just simple revitalizing, but we use it the most often."

' _Maybe one day you'll let me see some other magic? I'm pretty curious as to what else elves can do.'_ She looked at him with eager, shining eyes and he smiled shyly.

"Maybe," he said softly. "I'm not a fan of doing magic with other people around...but maybe. Considering our circumstances and all," he laughed awkwardly.

' _Well, thank you for showing me something then. I know you don't like to talk about it.'_

He shrugged, tonguing over his lips, "I know you won't push me too far about it," he admitted softly. "You're the only one who hasn't asked me for more details about the whole situation..." he paused, looking up at her with a sad glaze over those forested eyes that made her heart sink lightly. "Look, one of these days...it's going to come up," he said evenly. "I'm due for another...bout of sickness, probably in a week or so," he murmured hesitantly. "I'm not sure entirely what I do, but people have told me it gets...scary," he frowned deeper, looking at the tiger stripe tiredly. Kendra watched him worriedly as he shifted, rolling his shoulders back and sighing. "No one's been willing to tell me just what it is that happens, they seem to think I'll get scared of what I can do and just...collapse," he gestured defeatedly. "I just thought I should warn you."

He glanced down at a small message pressed under his nose. _'You're too small to be_ _ **too**_ _scary.'_ she teased lightly and he smirked. _'But thank you for telling me. I'll find a way to help you through it.'_

Kyle smiled sadly, looking back up at her reassuring expression. "Thank you," he whispered.

Kendra stared at him for a bit before moving closer and cupping his chin. Kyle blinked in shock as she turned his head and yanked down her scarf just a tad, planting a long, hot kiss on his cheek. She readjusted her headwear and let go of his face, watching him slowly turn back towards her, red face alive and stunned. "What was that for?" he asked, voice turned up an octave. She smirked softly and shrugged, scratching her head awkwardly, not quite sure herself. He stared at her a bit longer, watching her slowly beginning to fuss with her hands and drop her stare to the ground with his silence, reading the worry exuding from her with ease. He perched up on his knees, leaning forward before he could catch himself and kissing her cheekbone back. She shot her head up in surprise, their faces beaming heat onto one another's from the intimate proximity.

They both smiled awkwardly, Kendra pressing her head down to rest their foreheads together. Kyle gulped, eyes slipping shut and a long breath filling his lungs. He could smell pine needles, sticky with sap in the autumn sun. It saturated him, weighed him down before lifting him into a world of comfort in the homey aroma. Kendra smiled, hand going to clasp around the redhead's, their fingers automatically finding their places alongside each other's and lightly hooking through and around.

Kyle opened his eyes at paper being pressed against him, reading a simple _'what was_ _ **that**_ _for?'_ He smirked, giving her a return shrug and they both laughed quietly, letting a calm silence break over them as they rested against one another in comfortable stillness.

Craig watched from across the hall, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at their little clumsy display of affection. "Fucking royals," he muttered. His ears perked at a soft thumping down the hall, looking to see Stan and Christophe walking towards them. Stan's eyes drifted down to the two on the floor, jaw dropping slightly at the show.

"Your Highness?" he barely managed to eek out. The prince and princess nearly jumped away from each other, looking to see the hallway for what felt like the first time.

"Stan," Kyle said hurriedly, struggling back to his feet and helping Kendra up as well. "You found me," he smiled embarrassedly.

"Yeah. I did," he frowned, looking at the both of them with red faces and awkwardly trying to figure out what to do with their hands as they listlessly clasped around themselves.

He looked at his prince, reading his expression with ease. _"Please don't,"_ the elf silently begged him. _"I told you where this stands. I don't want to hurt you, please don't hurt me."_

He took a deep breath, staring at the flustered redhead. "Looks like you know," he said softly. Kyle dropped his eyes guiltily, giving him a lackluster shrug. Kendra looked between the both of them, eyes narrowing just the slightest in suspicion. The group stood in awkward silence for a moment, focus locked on the prince and his ranger.

"Prince Kyle?" a separate voice called.

" _Oh thank god_ ," Kyle murmured under his breath, straightening up and turning to see a servant heading his way. "Yes?"

The elf bowed quickly, "Prince Kyle, the grand healer wishes to speak to you in...preparation," he said hesitantly.

Kyle gulped, nodding softly. Instinct had never led him wrong before, and it seemed the healer could sense the same amount of sickening dread heading towards him like a storm cloud. "Thank you, is she in her study?" The elf nodded, Kendra catching the sympathetic glaze over dark brown eyes. "That'll be all," Kyle smiled meekly. "Thank you."

"Of course, Your Highness," he bowed again, turning and heading back towards his duties.

Stan took a deep breath, stepping up beside the prince and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't realize how close we were."

"Well...let's just be thankful it follows a timetable," Kyle murmured, bringing his hand up and clasping his fingers around Stan's own. He looked up at Kendra and forced a smile on his face to combat her worried expression. "Sorry, I have to go see her."

She handed him a note, biting her lip anxiously, _'Would you like me to come with you?'_

He paused for a moment, letting the thought settle over him before Stan cleared his throat. "I don't think it's necessary, My Prince," he inputted.

Kyle looked up at his defeated expression and sighed, "She's going to have to learn about it at some point, Stan. Can't exactly hide it..." he looked back at her and nodded. "If you want to, I won't stop you. Just know that you're not going to be getting any more information than what I get unless someone chooses to speak with you privately...Which they may do anyway considering all this," he gestured between the both of them. He slumped tiredly, knowing he was in for a round of tests of blood being taken to mix with herbs and a regiment of little to no sleep until the illness came and went. _"To weaken the potential,"_ he'd been told time and again.

Kendra sighed, watching the anxiety worming through the redhead. She grasped his hand comfortingly, stroking her thumb lightly along the back of his fingers. She looked up, catching Stan glaring at her before quickly breaking eye contact as she hit his gaze. She narrowed her eyes, grating the inside of her lip. _'Jealous?'_ she thought bitterly. _'Sorry, but you have to share him now, Buddy.'_ She squeezed the prince's hand pointedly, letting him take a wavering breath before stepping off with her and leading the group down the winding corridors. Kendra and Stan kept their eyes locked on one another over Kyle's drooping head, each pair screaming their message loud and clear: _"Just_ _ **try**_ _and take him from me."_


	19. The Healer's Augury

The walk down the winding wooden corridors seemed longer than ever. An unmatched tension seemed to emanate between the ranger and the princess, not seeming to be able to pay attention to their journey or the elf between them who was uncharacteristically silent.

Craig glanced back and forth between the both of them, rolling his eyes. Why was _he_ the one that was being forced into wrangling back their expanding rivalry? He'd just been brought along to keep the princess safe from harm, a job that he _already_ resented with his trademarked passionate monotony. The rogue stepped up closer, subtly elbowing Stan's arm. The fellow guard glanced at him in shock at the sudden break from his personal war, giving off a small scowl. Craig raised his brow in a silent warning: _"You don't knock it off and I'm going to have to just assume you intend to harm the princess."_

A long, seething breath flew through Stan's nose, glancing back at his prince and his face falling. Sharp blue eyes flickered to the hand conjoined with the blonde foreigner's, noting Kyle's fingers lightly flexing around her own. His heart dropped. He knew that motion. Kyle was stressed, was just trying to seat himself into reality before his infamous temper and tendency to panic overwhelmed him. It was long a routine with Stan, grabbing his hand or his forearm and methodically squeezing him, reminding himself of where he was and his duties before he could gather enough of his bearings to press forward with whatever trial laid ahead. But now it seemed as though he were slowly being replaced after only a _month_. He couldn't even blame the princess having a _smooth tongue_ of all things.

She was kind, one of the values that the young prince held above all else in anyone he met. She was so _interested_ in learning the Drow culture, and she'd proven with the Canadian kings that, with little effort, she could bring the best of Kyle out into the world.

It was a notion that terrified him. His duty was to be beside Kyle throughout his life and his reign, and the idea of always seeing him attached so nonchalantly to the human was ridiculous. Especially when there was _another_ human that had been longing for so long to be the one publically intertwined with those slim fingers.

"Stop, you're making me nervous," Kyle's voice shot through, the ranger glancing down and blinking to see the redhead frowning at him.

He bowed his head slightly, thrusting himself back into place. "Forgive me, I'm just worried for you, my prince."

He hummed before shrugging dismissively. "Not like we haven't gone through it before… Well, the two of us at least," he murmured. He glanced up to see Kendra watching him worriedly and he cleared his throat. "You _can_ still back out," he said slowly. "I'm sure something can be arranged where when I get sick they keep you out-" he stopped as Kendra laid a gentle hand over his lips, blue eyes falling into a stern expression as she shook her head.

She wasn't about to miss whatever it was that had him so worried. Because she'd be damn well _lying_ to herself if she claimed that she didn't feel any hint of concern for what it was he was headed towards. She pulled her hand back and patted his cheek before twisting herself back forward. Kyle gulped, looking down with a blush, wondering just what it was that he was leading his future bride towards. He only knew how weak he felt, he had no idea what happened in those periodic moments where he would black out, waking up surrounded by frantic watchers holding him down and trying to half-smother him in cooling rags. Why they refused to tell him what it was that led him to blacking out, he could never fathom. Even Stan would adamantly avoid the subject, under strict direction from his parents, no doubt.

He sighed, tugging Kendra's hand slightly and leading the group down a hallway to the left, heading towards the far-side door on the right of the corridor. He paused outside the door, glancing around at their group. "Oh, some forewarning," he said to Kendra, Butters, Christophe, and Craig. Our healer has an… unusual appearance," he said carefully. "Do not stare, do not draw attention. And please, for the love of all that's good, do _not_ comment on it," he begged. "I'm trusting you all to be adults. Is that understood?" he glanced in particular to the three men behind them. They all nodded slowly in confusion and he took a deep breath. "Good." Green eyes flickered up, catching Kendra's reassuring smile and feeling the tension within him settle in the slightest.

He stepped up towards the maple barrier, rapping the back of his hand against it. _"Yes_?" a kind voice called out. He pressed open the door and glanced around, seeing a woman sitting with her book, looking up at him and blinking before smiling. The newcomers of the group did their best not to recoil, seeing a dead fetus conjoined to the side of her face. They all gulped, moving in closer towards Kyle subtly as he and Stan were completely unfazed. "Your Highness, you know you don't need to knock," she teased, getting to her feet and dusting off her robe.

"Well, I try to be polite," he said with a meek smile. "Healer Gollum, these are the new additions to Larnion. I'm sure you've heard of at least Princess Kendra."

"I have," she nodded, giving a small curtsey. Kendra smiled, giving a long, thankful nod in return. "Wonderful to have you here, Princess."

Kyle smiled gratefully at her, beyond thankful that he didn't have to put Kendra through more of the elves' nervous racism for a meeting already as stressful as this was. "These are Craig and Butters, her guard and paladin. And this is Christophe, Stan's understudy," he introduced before his face fell slightly in embarrassment. "I was told you needed to see me for preparations?"

She nodded solemnly, "Yes. Your Highness, I know you hate it, but it has to be done."

"I know, I know," he held up his free hand and sighed. "Kendra wants to know exactly what's going to happen. Since our circumstance would pretty much _require_ her to know," he pressed.

The healer paused, glancing from him up to the attentive princess who squeezed Kyle's hand reassuringly. She twisted her lips. "Are you sure? We can very easily just inform you of his spells and give you updates on his condition if you feel it would suit you better, Your Highness."

The blonde's easygoing curiosity fell, a frown taking over the entirety of her face. She shook her head firmly, nearing the point of stamping her foot like a child. She was kept from enough when sitting in Kupa Keep's line. She'd be _damned_ if the country that she was _to be queen of_ wanted to keep her in the shadows of what was happening to her _fiancé_ of all people.

Gollum let out a long sigh and nodded. "All right. Prince Kyle, why don't you go on to the room," she gestured to an adjacent door. "My apprentices will begin your tests."

"Oh goodie," he mumbled, pissed that he was being shoved out of the discussion over _his_ health yet again, but it wasn't exactly surprising.

Stan cleared his throat, "My prince, would you like me to accompany you?"

"No, I'll be fine," he shook his head tiredly, trudging into the room towards the inner door. "Just come get me when you're all done," he rolled his eyes. He opened the door to see Gollum's two assistants setting up an array of bottles and herbs and took a deep breath, shaking his head. He glanced back towards the group, seeing Kendra's meek reassuring smile and sighing tiredly, quietly stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

The healer turned to the group, frowning. "I'm sorry, but not all of you may stay in here. Stanley and the princess may, but this is a matter of the prince's very private health."

"I'm her guard," Craig said dryly.

"I've got it covered, Craig," Stan said sharply. "All of you wait outside. We'll come out when the prince is done with his tests." Craig and Christophe rolled their eyes, stepping back outside the room, Butters meekly following behind them. Stan kicked the door shut, leaning against it firmly and nodding for Gollum to begin.

She sighed, "Come sit here, Princess, if you please," she requested, gesturing to her own ornately padded chair. Kendra shook her head, taking a seat on the barren wooden stool across from it, watching her attentively. Gollum blinked before smiling softly, taking her seat and bowing her head lightly towards her. "I can see you and the prince will do well together," she commented. Stan scoffed, rolling his eyes at the assumption.

"I've heard that you are mute. Is this true?" she asked quietly, getting a solemn nod in return. The woman folded her hands and took a deep breath. "Then I will explain as much as I can. Prince Kyle… has… episodes," she said slowly, Kendra gradually raising her brow. "He began using magic at a very early age. _Too_ early," she winced. "It made him very weak. His body found itself working to control his magic instead of making him strong against illness and disease. If he catches a cough, the entire palace goes into panic," she said. "The king and queen ordered that should anyone come into the palace with an ailment, they be escorted out, only allowed back within the walls when I check them and certify that they are indeed healthy."

Kendra looked back towards Stan, gesturing with a writing motion. The noirette sighed, stepping off from the door and heading towards the healer's desk, snagging her blank parchment and quill, bringing them over to the blonde. Kendra bit her lip, quickly scribbling out her message and handing it to the nurse. _'Why is he getting tested_ _ **now**_ _then?'_

She hesitated, tucking bright pink hair behind her pointed ear. "Because it is not only outside illness that he must be concerned about. There is an inner sickness that we still don't know what it is. But every six months, it rears back up, and it nearly disables him. He becomes lucid. Can barely speak, can't recognize people except for Stanley on occasion," she gestured to him. Stan couldn't help a small, boasting grin at the facts. It was true, Kyle often only able to say his name when under the hold of the illness, begging for him to be near him, to help him. It was a blessing and a curse; Grateful for how he seemed to be Kyle's primary need, terrified of what the illness was doing to his prince and how he could do nothing to stop it.

Gollum continued, "But he is not always so frail when it begins," she said quietly. "There are moments where he becomes…" she paused, searching for the word.

Stan breathed out sadly, "Dangerous." Kendra shot her head up towards him, blinking rapidly. She pointed towards the door Kyle was behind in astonishment, not able to comprehend the tiny redhead being such a word. He nodded solemnly. "He blacks out. His powers just… _go_ ," he scratched at his hair. "Things get thrown, plants start grabbing people."

"It's terrifying," the healer added quietly. "People have gotten severely hurt. It's why we don't tell the prince just what it is that happens. Because if he knew… he'd demand he be left alone during his ailments."

Kendra frowned, scribbling out another message and passing it off to her, both her and Stan reading over a naïve, _'If he's sick, he won't know if you disobey that order, right? You need to tell him; It's driving him crazy not knowing! That's not fair to him.'_

Stan shook his head, brow furrowing. "This is why you don't know him," he said lowly, meeting her warning glare point for point. "If we told him what he did, he wouldn't just lie around waiting for it to pass. He would _run_ ," he snapped. "He'd get as far away from Larnion as possible to prevent anyone from getting hurt, Princess. And without treatment, he would die. So no, we're _not_ telling him."

"Stanley," Gollum warned. "Remember she _is_ royalty." She turned back from him looking away angrily to face the devastation on the blonde's profile. "But… he is right," she said quietly. "Prince Kyle would not allow himself to be the cause of such harm. Each bout of sickness is met with not only medicine and prayers, but elves constantly working to ensure that his room is rebuilt from any destruction he may cause before he heals. Usually we tie him down, but that doesn't always stop it. So for the next week, the goal is to weaken him. Let him sleep only for a half hour at a time. Cut down his food."

Kendra's frown deepened, passing yet another note. _'So, torture him.'_

The woman looked up at her, misery clearly ringing over her face. "None of us like doing this, Your Highness. But the loss can be massive if we let him have full strength when it hits. And… you haven't seen the physical toll it takes on him," she explained. "We believe it's the magic itself that makes him so sick to begin with, that it's trying to go beyond his body so to speak," she gestured outwards. "If we let him have full strength… well… it happened once," she shook her head.

Stan bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes. He hated that reminder. Hated it with such furious passion that he could barely comprehend it. He glanced down at another piece of parchment sliding between himself and the healer. _'What happened?'_

Stan looked up slowly, blue eyes all locking in with one another as a heavy breath expanded his chest under his breastplate. "We were eight, and it came out of nowhere one day… He almost died," he said softly. "We almost lost him. He got… so small," he said, voice growing tinier. "If you'd seen him on the street, you would've left him for dead, because it looked like there was nothing to be done about it anymore…" he shook his head and looked away again, crossing his arms and shifting uncomfortably in his place. "We can't let that happen again," he murmured.

"No," Gollum agreed. "If it weren't for the Drows of Beaverton, we would have lost him without a doubt. They gave us a potion to suppress his magic. But even with steady intake, it can't keep up with how much he's growing with power. When it finally overtakes the potion's effects, he falls ill. And only when he's back on the upswing a few days later and still weakened can the cycle begin again… It's an awful thing, Princess. And a burden you may be struggling through for the entirety of your reign," she stated somberly. "The prince has made _great_ strides in his health, but these few days… They will be a challenge."

Kendra's heart sank, looking down at her parchment and blinking slowly. What she was hearing was just surreal, unable to picture the redhead in the condition that they were describing to her. She handed Gollum another note, _'What can I do? How can I help him?'_

She tongued over her lips, glancing at the desperation in Kendra's eyes and smiling sadly. "Be there for him," she advised. "Let him know that you're with him. It may help or it may not, but a chance is better than absolutely nothing. Other than that, all you can do is be patient and realize that the prince you see on those few days, that's not the _real_ prince. He may scream and cry and thrash… he'll be almost another being entirely."

"And don't cry in front of him," Stan input softly, both of the women looking at him as he glanced out the window. "He'll use his power to try to get out and get to you to help you. Don't risk it."

"Stanley has sat in with him on his bouts since he was twelve," Gollum explained. "He knows how to handle him, can usually calm him down enough so that not too much damage is caused… But I think you should be there, too, Your Highness. If only to observe."

Kendra nodded slowly, handing off another message. _'I'll do whatever I can to help. And I won't say a word to him about it.'_

Stan took a shaking breath. At least she understood the magnitude of the situation, naïve as she truly was at the end of it all. Words only did so much, she'd be in for a hell of a twist when she actually saw what laid ahead of them all. He nodded sharply at her, Kendra gulping, pointing towards Kyle's door.

Gollum nodded, "You may see him… Just note that… what they're doing isn't very… pretty," she winced.

The princess got to her feet and Stan stepped over, grasping her arm. "Princess… maybe you shouldn't," he said slowly. She glanced at him, furrowing her brow and shaking her head, pulling her arm from his grip. She hiked up her dress a bit as she glided through the room, Stan on her tail. A wave of hesitation slammed into her as she put a gloved hand atop the doorknob, blinking herself out of it and pushing the door open. Her heart dropped, seeing Kyle leaning on a table and biting his hand, brow furrowed in pain as his back was cut with a small blade. Blood dripped down into a cup held by one of the assistants, the other cooing him and assuring him it'd be over before he knew it.

Kendra looked between the three of them, frowning and stepping up briskly towards Kyle, grasping his hand from his teeth and holding onto it tightly. Kyle shot his eyes open, face turning red with embarrassment. "You don't have to be in -FUCK!" he shouted, head dropping and body quivering as another cut was slashed into the skin. Kendra worriedly stroked his hand, gripping onto him in silent reassurance. He gasped wetly in pain, hand opening and re-gripping her fingers desperately. "Are you done yet?" he begged, shoulders shaking.

"Almost, Your Highness, almost," one assured him, patting his sweated neck.

Kendra moved down, slipping his fist under her scarf and planting her lips against his knuckles on instinct. She continued to kiss his skin comfortingly, green eyes flying back up towards her and that humiliation still heavily present. She moved one of her hands to his cheek, cupping him lightly and bringing their foreheads together, feeling his brow knitting once more in pain and pushing against him firmly. Kyle sniffled, pressing back lightly, letting out another groan at one more cut added to his spine.

"Last one," the other promised. "Last one and we'll heal you right up."

"Thank fuck," he whimpered. Kendra continued planting small kisses on his knuckles, her own heart wrought with turmoil watching him in such pain. She couldn't figure it out for the life of her, how deeply hurt she felt watching him near tears and trying so desperately not to lose himself. Why instinct was screaming that she needed to comfort him, that she needed to touch him and kiss him and bring him back down to where she was. She looked up from their close proximity, heightened by Kyle's heavy panting and a small shudder ran through her, a pleasant nausea curling in her stomach feeling his body heat washing over her so vehemently.

Her mind spurned off all at once. Hearing those pants in a _different_ setting, one where pain was not on the agenda, not at this rate. Where the sweat and concentration came from _other_ involvement, with Kyle _underneath_ of her and those breathy whimpers took on a whole new meaning.

Her eyes widened all at once, a worry slamming into her like never before.

Oh _no_.

She gulped, shifting uncomfortably and crossing her legs, getting herself back onto Earth, back in Larnion, back in this room with her _suffering_ fiancé. She gripped his hand tighter, planting another long, slow kiss against his skin. Kyle glanced up at her weakly, green eyes shining like stars despite the agony he was enduring, echoing with the ebbing tide of confusion and disbelief at the lengths she was going to just for his comfort. He took a shaking breath, inhaling that powerful smell of pine sap that leaked off of her so potently, making the pain seem to fleet away for but a moment. He pulled back a bit from her forehead, the both of them staring at each other, each lost in their own curiosity at what the other could possibly be thinking, if it was something positive about themselves. If the other was just as lost in confusion over their feelings as they were.

"All right, Your Highness, almost done," one of the assistants claimed, moving to rub soothing ointment over the cuts. Kyle winced, thrown out of his comfortable wanderings and back into a stinging reality as paste was lathered on and covered by strips of cloth to be taped down.

"Thank you," Kyle whispered to her, trying to ignore the two elves bearing pressure down onto his fresh wounds.

Kendra smiled sadly, kissing his knuckles yet again and nodding. It was the bare minimum of what she could do, but at least it was something that he seemed to appreciate.

Stan watched from the doorframe, shaking his head and taking a long breath. He could never offer that kind of comfort to Kyle, not in public. It was something he yearned to do, often having to stop at letting Kyle just grip his arm and beat on the table while he was subjected to his torment. He couldn't kiss him, couldn't murmur words of comfort to him like his prince so deserved. It was a hard truth, but Stan was destined to only be his watcher; Only meant to observe and protect him from outside harm. Internal pain now seemed deemed to a new soul, one who didn't deserve it. One who hadn't spent so _long_ learning the ins and outs of Kyle's entire being.

But there she was, holding him and silently cooing him like she was born to do it.

Stan growled under his breath, fingers digging into his arms as they remained firmly crossed. Healer Gollum stepped up beside him and shook her head, patting his shoulder. "She's good to him," she said quietly, out of the others' earshot. "You need to be good to her. Your job is to protect both of them now, Stanley. Don't let down your prince."

Stan blinked in shock, watching her step off and frowning after her. For someone who specialized in making people feel better, she sure as hell missed her opportunity in this case far enough she may as well have landed in Kupa Keep. He shook his head, watching her talking calmingly to Kyle as he slowly stood up and put his shirt back on, eyes shifting to rest on Kendra watching the healer talking. Her blue eyes were wide and attentive, sipping in every single word of Kyle's next steps, as though preparing herself to be by his side the entire way through. Stan huffed to himself, letting his eyes settle back and smolder comfortably on his prince, standing with a sad expression, looking already worse for wear as the assistants promised to have his collected blood tested with herbs and a diagnosis to worm its way back to him within the day. The ranger took a long breath and shook his head. Kendra could tell herself she would be by Kyle's side as much as she wanted, but she would never be prepared.

She simply didn't know enough.


	20. Tales of Old

When she was nine years old, her older brother had done wonders for her already-dwindling self-esteem. He'd scrounged up what spare money he could, with a surprisingly random donation from the palace itself of all places, and bought her a new dress. It was nothing special, a plain olive green slip with cranberry swirls dancing along the cuffs of the sleeves. She'd washed her hair in the river and put herself into that dress, twirling around their rundown shack of a home as a model. Her mother, skin pale with sickness and her older brother sweated and blistered from his backbreaking labor sat with cups of milk and watched her dancing along giddily as her skirt swept so close to the ground, gracing it with the barest of touches. They complimented her 'form' in her silly twisting, telling her just how proud both her father and Kenny would have been if they'd been able to see her.

That had stopped her in her tracks, staring out the dusted window towards a setting sun. She knew her father wouldn't have cared had he lived long enough to see her growing. He wouldn't have paid her a second glance if she wasn't made of ale.

But Kenny…

Kenny would have loved it. Kenny would have danced with her, would have played along as her being a lady of 'noble blood'. He would've made the false reality stay seated for so much longer. She remembered only bits and pieces of him, a mere three when he had turned up missing, his family unable to convince the queen to have more than two weeks' worth of searching before matters of diplomacy came to hand and the forces had to be called off. She vaguely remembered how kind the queen had been when she'd come to see them personally and express her grief and prayers for their youngest son's sudden disappearance. She'd held her mother's dirtied hands, nails brittle and cracked with the stress of labor without the slightest hesitation. Karen had always marveled at that, always being told by her parents that they weren't worthy of being in the presence of the royal family, much less touched by. But there Queen Liane had been, clasping calloused palms and cooing at her in that motherly way despite their relatively identical ages.

Then, the queen had _knelt_. Knelt down to pet Kevin's and her own head, tell them how she was sure that wherever Kenny was, he missed them very much. And that he'd see them again one day, no matter the circumstance. Karen had burst into tears, unable to fully comprehend that her favorite family member was so quickly and so _certainly_ gone from her life. Kevin had bowed sloppily, but as well as he could manage, having spent the last few weeks with minimal sleep scouring for Kenny. The queen had told the grieving family she would cover the next months' worth of their combined wages while they got back onto their feet, their mother following Karen's reaction and breaking into sobs while her husband held around her. He'd thanked the queen for her generosity before the woman had turned with a sad smile that Karen remembered to this day, and walked out of their home for the first and last time.

Nearly thirteen years had passed. Thirteen years of learning how life must go on despite the hardships one must face. They'd lost her father when she was seven, the fool drunk enough to get into a brawl with one of the royal guards and thrown into a wall. He hadn't made it a full day before they were saying their final prayers for him, the remaining three of the family stoic as they watched him lowered into the earth. The situation had been a strange one to settle on the lot of them. He had never exactly been what one would call a _model_ father and husband, more often than not laying his hands on any of them if it wasn't preoccupied with a cup. But his pittance of salary was still _something_ , and they'd lost it.

Not long after, the loss of both a husband and son in such a short span of time took its toll on her mother. Her ribs began to protrude, eyes sunken and dark, always staring at the wall like it would bring back all she'd lost. Kevin and Karen did what they could, trying to keep her up and moving. But three years of slowly withering into nothing finally ended her suffering, Kevin having to go directly to the queen to get custody of Karen and move them into a smaller shack on the outskirts of the city.

It was a life neither of them wanted. Kevin's dream had been to train to be in the guard, but knew that he couldn't risk being sent into battle and Karen losing her only remaining tie to the McCormick name. And Karen? Karen still didn't know what she wanted. She only knew she yearned for more than what life had given her, that she wanted to pick up and move on somewhere she could be happy and taken care of, not relying on her brother for meager scraps of bread. Not drafted into the royal court's array of servants spread throughout the city.

The pay was next to nothing, but a little was still more than none. She'd been passed from boss to boss in the last three years. More often than not she found herself merely taking care of the elderly until they passed on, then just picking up and applying for the next line of work. She'd found herself in the hands of cruel men and women now and again, ones that claimed of ownership of which they had no such right. She could come and go from the position as she pleased, as Kevin reminded her vehemently. He bore into her skull that she was a _paid home keeper_ ; she was not a _slave_. And anytime she felt as such, she had his full permission to get away from them and find herself a new line of work. Karen had only found herself in such a situation about four times, taking Kevin's advice and walking right out with nothing more than a polite goodbye.

Now, why she'd been randomly reassigned from her previous working home to _this one_ , she'd never know. But, looking at old Mrs. Grady embroidering away in her chair, she couldn't exactly complain.

The woman was very kindly, just needed her house kept in order and the company since her husband had passed away five months prior. She had a fondness for Karen, had told her already how wonderful it was to imagine that she finally had a child of her own. She'd teased that she would much rather have gotten one Karen's age anyway, having a strong disdain for little children running around and making everything a mess. She couldn't disagree with that, taking care of homes with children was exhausting, more than glad that Mrs. Grady was so well-kept and just needed her to assist in cooking and tasks she couldn't handle any longer.

Karen hummed, snagging a wooden spoon from its resting spot and stirring a pot of soup bubbling atop a small fire pit in the kitchen. The aroma of moist chicken and simmering vegetables assaulted her senses, a fond smile crawling up her lips. She enjoyed this, getting to make creations that she couldn't afford at home, Mrs. Grady more often than not sending her back to her house with a bowl or two for Kevin as thanks for Karen's hard work.

She stood on her tiptoes, placing the spoon back into place and slinking back onto the ground. Her pretty olive dress had long since been replaced with worker's garments, muddy tiretain wrapped around her with a dirtied apron tied taut around her waist. Mouse brown hair was swept back with two ribbons, twin pigtails riding down to her shoulder blades and kept from her face. She squeezed and rubbed her hands together a bit to loosen the joints to crack, stealing a glance at her palms and sighing. She had the hands of a middle-aged woman already, hardened with the brunt of labor and tireless effort to keep her and Kevin's little shack afloat. But, as Kevin told her, they were signs of her character. No _royalty_ would have such stories told on their palms, doing nothing for themselves, relying on their slaves to do each and every task. No, no. She was _strong_. She was unlike those languorous figures sitting oh-so-prettily on their thrones, watching the world pass them by from on high.

Karen didn't know if she agreed with the sentiment. Of the newly-appointed king, she knew his words rang with truth. But she'd seen the fruits of Queen Liane's efforts, the kingdom flourishing under her maternal thumb. Their methods were set in stone, but the rarely seen princess, however, was a bit of a mystery. Karen could only assume that she spent her time handling internal affairs, hearing little more than hearsay regarding her while she ran errands. No one knew her clan, no one knew of her origins. She'd shown up out of the blue when she was ten years old, poised and dressed prettily for an unveiling that Karen had missed due to aiding in the grief process her mother was still suffering through. She'd seen the princess only once years later when she'd found herself in the midst of a royal hearing by chance, seeing her oh-so-tall and glistening in the sun in her adorned sky blue and lilac gown. She had been silent, a thin white scarf draped across her face and hands intricately twisted in front of her while she stood at the queen's side for her announcement. Karen couldn't remember the details of said proclamation, far too busy staring at glimmering blue eyes on a princess that looked far too sad for a woman of such nobility.

Karen shook out her fingers, making way for her broom before a rapid knock caught her attention, both she and Mrs. Grady whipping their heads towards the door. Mrs. Grady chuckled, "Want to bet that's the king's man?" she teased from the nervous energy behind the rapping.

Karen smirked, walking from the kitchen into her main room and laughing back. "I don't make bets I'm sure to lose, Ma'am." Mrs. Grady gave a playful pout as Karen stepped up and opened the door, seeing the disheveled and painted face of Tweek giving her a timid smile.

"H-hello," he waved.

"Hello, Tweek," she bowed her head a bit, stepping aside and letting him come through the door.

He paused in front of Mrs. Grady and gave her a quick, courteous bow, "S-sorry to come in unannounced again, M-Ma'am."

Mrs. Grady cocked her brow, "Sir Tweek, you may do as you wish."

He raised his hands in front of him and shook them rapidly. "No, no, not a Sir. The king would _never_ knight a barbarian!"

"Well, that's his loss," Karen inputted, Tweek blinking at her a bit for her assumption. She shrugged, going back to her original mission to gather her broom from beside the hand-carved pantry. "I won't pretend to understand how that whole thing works, but if you're in direct contact with the king so frequently, he should reward you for that, shouldn't he?"

Tweek cleared his throat, hand flying upwards to fiddle with a lock of strung-out hair. "I-I'm not gonna question what he wants t' do. He makes the rules, not me."

"That's _our_ loss," Mrs. Grady muttered with an eye roll, Tweek looking at her in astonishment. She looked up and scoffed, "Don't look so scandalized, young man. You grow up with great leaders and it declines and you take notice. We can only hope he'll come into his reign."

Karen nodded in agreement, sweeping across the sparse dirt particles on the main floor. "Exactly. Maybe he's just not used to the power as of yet. Perhaps, with time, he'll learn his people better."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Tweek said quietly, eyes darting around for potential listeners lingering outside the homestead. Karen couldn't help but chuckle quietly. Tweek was an enigma, a barbarian who'd come up to Mrs. Grady's requesting if he could speak to her only days after her reassignment. She'd been dumbfounded but allowed it nonetheless, Tweek doing little more than introducing himself to the both of them and telling Karen that he was sent by special order of the king to observe and speak to some of the servants in the kingdom. She'd bought it for a few minutes before the questions became far more than just regarding her work ethic, Tweek asking of her family and pushing until landing on the topic of Kenny.

She still didn't know _why_ he wanted these stories, but something about it held the air of suspicion. No one had brought up her brother but her family since he disappeared, his existence all but taboo. After all, they still didn't know what'd happened to him, so bringing him up could reopen old wounds that no one wanted to take the time to assist in healing. Either way, however, she didn't particularly _mind_. What little she remembered had been enhanced via Kevin's stories of their time spent together as children, Karen more than happy to pass on those tales. At least _something_ besides just her and Kevin's dinnertime discussions were attempting to keep his memory alive.

"Would you like some coffee, Tweek?" she offered, Tweek looking back at her and nodding briskly.

"I mean… if it's not, ya know… trouble," he winced.

She chuckled, "Wouldn't offer if it was." She turned on her heel and headed back into the kitchen towards her kettle situated by the fire pit. Tweek sat in a chair across from Mrs. Grady, cocking his head at her embroidery. Beaming gold thread splashed out vibrantly against a pine fabric, intricate swoops and curls dancing across the canvas.

"What're you making?"

She shrugged, "Pillowcases. This place is just so drab," she glanced around her room and shook her head. "I finally have the time to just sit and make it my home instead of my house. Thanks to Karen, of course," she nodded at the girl walking back out with three steaming cups and a smile. She set them onto the table between the two of them, walking back to the kitchen to snag a jug of milk and a jar of course-grained cane sugar. She made way back towards them, sitting down beside Tweek and the three went about preparing their cups, the women watching amusedly as he barely doused his with either and began chugging it down. Karen finished mixing her concoction, taking a satisfied, long sip and sighing contentedly, relishing in the warmth of the mug delving into the lines of her hands, tenderizing the sore flesh. She glanced over at Tweek's bouncing leg and his timid gulping, shaking her head a bit. How one could function with such nerves was beyond her, but she admired it in a way.

Her brother had taught her to hold herself up with confidence, so no one could get under her skin. The McCormicks were notorious for flying off the handle, for being consistently on edge and ready to beat down anyone who so much at looked at them funnily. But, Kevin firmly informed her that they needed to break the cycle, that their parents had failed at doing so, but they could set things right. He told her that Kenny would be right there with him agreeing to his heart's content. Karen looked down at the milk jug with a small sigh. Kevin _often_ told her how Kenny would react to certain predicaments. But how would he know? Kenny was gone by the time he was only five, not _nearly_ old enough to have his future set. Her brother, however, was confident. So beyond sure of himself that Kenny would have grown to care more for the both of them than himself.

Karen had no doubts that he was correct, but not _knowing_ , not _seeing_ such a notion come to fruition… It was hard to get a grasp around the concept.

"S-so…" Tweek started slowly, looking over at her with wide hazel eyes. She cocked her head a bit, knowing what he was prodding for but wanting him to spell it out first. "Brother story?" he winced.

She laughed at his expression, shrugging and taking another long sip of her coffee. "I've told you for the past month, Tweek, I was only three."

"But you still know stories," he countered hurriedly. Mrs. Grady looked between the two of them with a smirk, taking a small sip and going back to her needle and thread.

Karen leaned back in her chair and sighed, legs crossing and foot bouncing in thought. "Fireflies," she said softly, feeling his eyes stuck on her attentively. "Kenny would take me out to catch fireflies. He'd steal empty ale jars from our father, clean them in the river, and he'd take me out to find them. He'd carry me on his back all the way towards the forest where there's more of them…" she looked up with a sad glaze over her dark eyes. "For when the candles had burnt out, so we'd have light. At least… that was his logic," she chuckled somberly. "That's one of the _few_ things I actually remember…"

She paused, biting her lip. She knew it the last time they'd ventured out was the day before he'd disappeared. Because she _distinctly_ remembered his face alit in the ethereal glow surrounding them, a missing tooth in his wide smile as he promised her that they'd come back the next night and get some more, but it was time for them to go home for bed. She'd never gotten that next trip. That was the last time she wanted to even _see_ a firefly, much less catch one. Too many stilted memories, too much of a connection to someone that she knew so little and yet so _much_ about. All she truly knew was that the pain was still there, that that little three-year-old wailing into Kenny's pillow still lingered in the back of her mind. Buried under years of maturing and learning the harsh reality of the world around her, she still held onto that oh-so-naïve hope.

She believed maybe it was something she and Kevin shared, seeing the same wistful fondness on his face during his stories. Maybe it was a belief that his miraculous return would boost their drab lives at last. They were tired of living in the dirt, so sick of their name being met with a sneer. Even if he didn't bring that kind of resolution to their lives, he'd bring _something_. Every little bit of family, every little bit of _help_ was needed and appreciated by the McCormick kids. Their pride could only carry them for so long, sometimes there needed to be more than just a head held high to keep a family from splitting at the seams.

"You okay?" Tweek's voice broke through her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you!"

She glanced at him and smiled with a shrug, "You didn't. It happens. You're fine, Tweek."

He gulped, fingers drumming the side of his emptied mug in an erratic rhythm. "Still though…" he glanced towards the kitchen. "Want me t-to take this to the basin or…?"

Karen waved him off. "Don't worry, I got it. Will that be all?"

He took a peek out the window and nodded, "Yeah… I'm running behind today. Gotta get back to the palace or the king will lose it." He placed his cup onto the table and got to his feet, giving them both another shaky smile and bow of his head. "Thanks again."

"Anytime, Tweek," Mrs. Grady answered. "You be safe out there."

"I-I try," he grinned weakly, shooting Karen another thankful gaze before turning on his heel and hurrying out the house.

The women watched after him, Karen blinking slowly. "Well… that was much quicker than usual."

Mrs. Grady nodded slowly, "What a _strange_ young man."

Karen chewed on her lip softly. "I just wish I knew what it was he wanted with these stories about my brother. It's just so… _odd_ ," her face twisted. "Kevin can't figure it out either."

"Perhaps they're reopening the search for him," she suggested in a gentle coo.

"Maybe…" she trailed off, chest twisting in suspicion. Something about that just didn't seem right, especially knowing the habits of the fat king lazing about the throne. He cared little for his _known_ citizens, much less the ones that'd been missing for well over ten years. She let out a deep breath and took another sip of her coffee. At least Tweek had one quality about him: He was a wreck. And wrecks, as she'd learned hunting through broken and deserted wagons for tradeable goods with Kevin, were _exploitable_.

She'd figure this out yet. She just had to wear him down, and get the jittery barbarian to divulge every little bit of what he knew so she could put together her own pieces. All it would take it as far as she could tell was a little patience, some precise chiseling at his defenses, and a few kettles of coffee.


	21. A Silent Proclamation

The corridors had never seemed so goddamn _long_.

Kyle's aching eyes narrowed in the slightest, fuzzy distortions of plants crawling along the walls seeming more sinister than anything else. They looked like they wanted to eat the palace alive, wanted to engulf every precious elven heirloom, and every _heir_ along with it. He shook his head, the backs of his wrists flying up towards his face and rubbing over his eyes. That kind of mindset was _beyond_ ridiculous, but damn it all if he could help it. The last three days had given him a total of eight hours of sleep. He was fucking _exhausted_ , could barely keep a thought straight if he tried. He hadn't been allowed in the library, his parents more than aware that any form of reading would ship him right into a deep sleep they'd be practically unable to rouse him from. He wasn't allowed to go outside any further than the palace garden, his immune system _especially_ vulnerable in this waiting period.

Not to mention, as Kyle knew despite how they never mentioned it, he looked like a walking disaster of an elf. Large bags under his eyes and a frown that could barely be moved, slurred speech and dizzied walking all were not exactly the presence that the royal family should be exuding to the people. As much as Larnians prided themselves on putting character before much else, there was still a certain standard for the royals to adhere to. Kyle couldn't make his way through the city looking like a half-drunken fool. Despite knowing that every single elf would know of the true plight he was enduring, there was a matter of his pride that he had to keep an account for. He wasn't about to voluntarily become a pitiable story families spoke of around their dinner tables, not again. Not if he could help it.

He glanced to either side of him, Stan and Christophe flanking him, ready to catch him if he happened to stumble over yet again. Kyle pouted. He had never been the epitome of grace, only able to pull off the ruse when in the midst of diplomatic tension outweighing his gangly nature. In his youth, his mother had gone so far as to use the old ridiculously tired trick of making him walk with books atop his head, trying desperately to impose some form of poise onto her eldest son. It'd taken months of walking everywhere as such before he could finally stride across a room with his back straight and his robes gliding behind him like the smooth tail of a comet. But even then, he shed such a gait if he could avoid it, much more comfortable with letting his tensions fall behind him as he walked, not looking as though they were all shoved in beside his spine to keep him up and rigid. But here, he had no choice, even his mother disregarding her usual tutting at him for not carrying the air of a king at all times. They all knew how he would struggle to do so much as turn his head in these bouts, something so trivial as his posture could wait until his spell had passed and he was back on the upswing.

"Your 'ighness, are you ok?" Christophe asked, looking down at the stumbling elf with a cocked brow. "Per'aps you should seet."

Kyle made a small groaning noise and waved off the notion. "No. No sitting. I'll fucking fall asleep if I'm not moving or talking or something."

Stan smirked, "Well you could talk to us."

"You two are _boring_ ," he drawled, beyond the point of politely dancing around the truth with pretty, misleading words. "Half your dialogue is you telling him the proper way to jump in front of an arrow for me," he jerked his thumb towards Christophe.

"'e 'as eenformed me zat ze best theeng to do ees take eet zrough ze arm. So you 'ave time to run and I weell be able to defend you longer."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "For God's sake, Stan."

His ranger shrugged, "My prince, that's training that _all_ guards are taught."

"Ugh," he groaned, rubbing his temple. "Speaking of, is Craig getting special training from Murphy or not?"

"Whaddya mean?" he blinked.

Kyle glanced up at him, rubbing at a near-leaking eye. "For Kendra. Is he getting more training for Larnion protocol or just sticking as he is?"

Stan cleared his throat, "There's a _different_ guard undergoing training for her protection right now. Craig will only assist."

Kyle stopped in his tracks, the two of them stumbling to stay at his side as Kyle stared up at Stan. "What are you talking about? Craig's her guard. Her _human_ guard. If she has a second one, it should be the elf who's the assistant unless Craig feels otherwise."

He winced, "I-I don't think Craig would care either way…"

"Well I do," he declared. "God, Stan, she's far away from _enough_ of her culture. Why not just get the paladin trained as her second guard? She's already surrounded enough by us elves; it wouldn't be the end of the world to give her some human companionship."

Christophe snorted, Kyle whipping his head around and staring at him questionably. He shrugged, "I am sorry, Your 'ighness. But… ze paladeen? Ze princess would be safer weez a rock as 'er guard zen zat fool."

"Hey," he pointed up at him sternly. "Listen. Butters is… dumb," he said slowly, not having the mental capacity to skip around the blatant truth. "But he cares about the princess' safety. That's what he's supposed to do." He ran a hand up through his hair and sighed, "Look, I'll talk to Kendra about it, see how she feels."

Stan frowned, "Why does it matter how she feels? Royal safety isn't your job, my prince, it's ours," he gestured between himself and Christophe."

"Haven't you listened to my _mother_?" he drawled. "Keeping Kendra comfortable here is _my_ job, and if that means our duties cross paths then you're just going to have to deal with it. I'll talk to her, and take whatever she feels up with Murphy."

"I really don't believe that's your pla-"

"Keep in _mind_ , Stanley," he scolded, "that were it _not_ for me having say in the happenings of the guard, _you_ would probably be working the stables and not breathing down my neck. So _please_ do not question me. I am _way_ too fucking tired to goddamn argue with you." Stan slowly closed his mouth and nodded, the guards picking back up pace as Kyle did. He wasn't wrong. The fact that a _human_ had been permitted into the guard, much less one of the guards for the royal body, was a feat in of itself. Kyle had played part in his, Token's, and Clyde's positions, not willing to let them be reduced to nothing more than stable hands kept out of the public's eye.

Kyle stumbled a bit, Stan and Christophe automatically catching under his arms and straightening him back up. He sighed, muttering his thanks and a light blush spreading across his cheeks. He hated this. Hated seeming so fucking weak and vulnerable. Kyle wasn't stupid, knew that it couldn't be helped. Didn't make it any less humiliating, though.

He glanced to the large, leaf-adorned door down the way and twisted his lips a bit, making his way towards it. Stan and Christophe kept their eyes half-focused on him, Kyle feeling their piercing wariness with vigor and trying to ignore it. He stepped up to an at-attention guard outside the door and smiled softly at him, the guard bowing. "Your Highness," he greeted.

"They in a meeting or…?"

He shook his head, "Not to my knowledge, Your Highness."

"Thank you," he nodded, moving forward and pushing the door open with some effort before the guard could get to it, the men shaking their heads at Kyle's insistence of taking care of himself as he struggled his way through. Kyle looked up to find three faces looking his way, blinking at Kendra sitting with his parents and waving at him excitedly.

"Kyle!" Sheila greeted. "Bubbie, how are you?"

"Dying," he muttered, finally sliding through the threshold with Stan and Christophe in tow. He raised his hand to his mouth to conceal a long yawn as he made way towards the group off to a side conference table below a massive detailed map of their city. "What's goin' on?"

Sheila smile a bit, turning to Kendra. "Honey, why don't you head off with some of the maidens and they'll help you get started?" She waved to a servant standing along the side of the room who stepped up with a curtsey.

Kendra smiled back and nodded, smoothly sliding up onto her feet. She patted Kyle's cheek dotingly, shooting him a wink before slipping around the group and heading off to follow the servant's lead with Craig on their tail. The remainder watched after them for a bit before Kyle turned back around and raised his brow at his mother. "Started with what?"

"Oh, Kyle, it's wonderful," she gushed, gesturing for him to sit down. He hesitated before moving into the chair, waving Stan and Christophe back against the wall with his parents' own guards. He watched longingly as his mother poured him a large cup of cinnamon-soaked coffee, sliding it over to him with a pint of cream and a jar of sugar. "Kendra had an _excellent_ idea," she continued.

"Oh?" he mixed his drink, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs as he watched their happy faces suspiciously. He took a long sip of his brew and savored the spark it lit within him at once. Kyle smacked his lips a bit, "What was her idea?"

Gerald grinned, taking a sip of his own drink. "You know her dresses she brought from Kupa Keep?"

"Those gaudy monstrosities? Yes," he scoffed.

His parents shared a look and a bit of a laugh, "That's _exactly_ what she called them," Sheila smirked, Kyle blushing in the slightest and hiding behind the lip of his mug.

"She asked us for help with them," Gerald continued, Kyle looking up at him questioningly. He shrugged, "She wants to sell most of them to human lands, use the money for some extra to have in the treasury for travelers."

"She wants a Larnion-made wardrobe!" Sheila said, clapping her hands a bit. "Isn't that wonderful?"

Kyle took long blinks, looking between the creamy coffee and his parents. He couldn't help but wonder if he was just too tired to comprehend reality, if he'd been making conversation with a goddamn tree this entire time. "I… W-wow," he managed to stammer out. He wasn't sure why it surprised him so much, if it was merely the exhaustion or maybe some deep-seated bias he still held despite getting along so well with the princess. Or maybe it was both. He certainly couldn't tell in the state he was in. But he very distinctly remembered telling her of their money customs on the _first day_ they'd met. The day she'd been thrown into an entirely new world and things would have no doubt been overwhelming for her. But she remembered, remembered such a _tiny_ detail that he'd told her about. A small, subtle smile crawled up his lips. "That's… great," he said earnestly. "Fantastic, actually. And that was her idea?"

Sheila nodded, "Yes, she requested to see us and had papers written to propose and everything," she waved to a small stack of parchment on the end of the table. The queen leaned back a bit, watching the grin playing on Kyle's face and brimming with glee. She was eating every bit of this up, every single moment. "She's certainly growing accustomed to our ways, isn't she?" she prodded.

Kyle nodded softly, "She is. It's… almost unnerving," he laughed a bit nervously.

Gerald leaned back and cocked his head, "Whaddya mean, Kyle?"

He cleared his throat, "I mean… I don't know, I never expected her to do anything but just kind of… uh…" he narrowed his eyes, fighting for a coherent sentence.

Sheila smiled sympathetically at her son, watching the turmoil raging over his face. "Expected her to sit there as nothing more than an outside figurehead?"

"Yeah. That," he nodded, taking another long sip of his drink. "I mean… I'd only heard her _name_ before she got here, never anything she ya know… did."

"She's been a very quiet power," Sheila explained with a subtle shrug. "Most of her work involved helping divvy funds to divide amongst the poorer citizens of Kupa Keep."

Kyle cocked his brow, leaning back and letting the notion stew over him. "What kinda divvying did she do?"

"From what Queen Liane told us, she was very involved in making sure money went to making jobs for the lower class," Gerald said. "She apparently just kept charge of running banquets and securing cheaper food so their people wouldn't go hungry."

"Huh," he said with a small nod. "Well I mean… we're not doin' so hot ourselves with money. Think she could give some input on that?"

Sheila grinned wider, watching her son's weary wheels turning with a deep, ringing pride. "Well, Bubbie, that's something _you_ should discuss with her first. You know better than she would what methods would stick with Larnians."

He gave a weak smile, "I don't think I should be discussing _anything_ political right now. I'm likely to start a war I'm so out of it."

Their faces both fell, taking long breaths as they watched their always-headstrong child struggling so much with just lifting his cup. "Well no one said right now, Kyle," Gerald said gently. "Wait until this bout passes and you're back to feeling like yourself."

Kyle sighed, tapping his index finger steadily against the ceramic in his hands looking between them both with drooping eyes. These last few days of exhaustion had left an ever-present question ringing through him, as it always did. However, now there was a new element added to the quandary, he just wasn't sure how to interpret how it would possibly play out in his inevitable future. "Do you think she can rule by herself?" he asked quietly.

Sheila's eyes widened in slight horror at the implication hidden in his words, "What? What do you mean? Bubbeleh, you're going to be king, she won't have the throne on her own."

He winced, "Maybe not initially, no. But if I'm down and out for a week twice a year, she'd be completely in charge in that timeframe. And… and we don't _know_ what this shit'll do to me when I'm older…"

"Language," Gerald half-heartedly reprimanded. "Kyle, you're right, we _don't_ know what it'll do. But maybe it'll go away as you age," he winced.

Sheila shuddered to herself out of Kyle's redirected line of sight before straightening back up into her practiced, rigid stance. "Well, Kyle, ask _yourself_ ," she pushed. "Do _you_ think she could handle Larnion on her own should that be the case?"

Kyle looked at her and gave a small, tired shrug. "I don't know. I've never seen her truly participating in something diplomatic. Being a nice person can only get someone so far on the throne… right?"

"It's the most _important_ part of being on the throne," she reminded him. "Being a kind person means imparting _fairness_ onto all matters. You've said yourself she's very kind, it'll take her far with our people."

Kyle nodded a bit, looking back down into his cup and sighing. "Yeah. I guess."

Sheila frowned, "Kyle. Do you truly believe we would have set you up with her if we didn't believe she could hold her own?"

"You'd never even _met her_ ," he reminded her with a slight drawl.

"No, but Queen Liane was never one to lie about her beliefs in someone's political prowess," Gerald said.

He rolled his eyes, "I don't know about that one. Look at her lardass of a son."

"Kyle, remember he is _king,"_ Sheila emphasized, brow raising in warning.

"A king who's driving his land's economy straight into the ground with his lavish spending," he scoffed. "Besides, he won't give me any ounce of respect now _or_ once I'm in the same standing as he is, why the fuck should I waste the energy feigning anything instead of just allowing my disdain?"

Sheila sighed, rubbing her temple and shaking her head. He was her son all right, beyond opinionated and often not afraid to show it. At least he knew to keep it within closed doors, to not risk turmoil sparking from ill-placed words of distaste. "King Eric is young," she reminded him. "He'll come into his own."

Kyle sneered, "That's no excuse. Let's say for a moment that _I_ was in his situation. You'd be looking down at me screaming your head off if I was acting so irresponsible with my power and hateful towards another land so outwardly."

"He _did_ give us Kendra," Gerald reminded him.

"Yes. And that makes me _more_ suspicious," he narrowed his eyes, putting his emptied cup down onto the table with a loud _bang_. "She was working on helping the unfortunate, the group he despises most within his own culture. The _majority_. She could've helped keep them appeased and staved off the inevitable revolt and mutiny. Why would he just hand us an asset like Kendra when he clearly _needs_ the assistance? And when he hates us, _me in particular_ , so fucking much?"

Sheila frowned a bit. He certainly wasn't completely off his rocker with such an inquiry. She'd found herself wondering the same thing that first night that Kendra had been brought to their home. "Perhaps he believed an alliance would strengthen his people's faith in his rule," she reasoned.

He cocked his brow, "Really? You _really_ think that? Can you _imagine_ how the humans are reacting to this right now? I _guarantee_ Kupa Keep is full of hearsay about how we're torturing and experimenting on Kendra with our 'witch powers'," he wriggled his fingers a bit. "The poor innocent princess being held hostage by the big bad elves. And if she proclaims to them that we're not so bad, they'll call it mind manipulation or something of the sort. Humans are hateful creatures," he said darkly.

Sheila's frown turned heavier, shaking her head at her son. "You believe Kendra to be hateful?"

Kyle paused, a subtle blush sweeping over his cheeks. "Well… no. But she's an exception."

"You think there's only _one_ exception in all of humankind to your racist mindset?"

He blinked at her, "I'm not being _racist_ , I'm being factual!"

She crossed her arms, "Kyle. You have a _very_ limited knowledge of the human's culture and lifestyle. You know _only_ of diplomatic happenings and stories from the War. And elves were not very kind in that conflict either, may I remind you. The only person on either side allowed to make _any_ kind of judgement like that is Kendra. She's the _only_ being who's lived through both sides and can remember both clearly. Do you understand me?"

He sunk a bit and scratched through his hair. "They kill elves, though."

"You think elves never killed humans?" Gerald raised his brow. "Kyle, before your mother and I took the throne, my parents were _beyond_ hateful of humans. Any spotted near our lands were killed without question. Our mercy is a very _new_ thing. You've just been raised around it so it doesn't seem that way."

"We didn't want to continue being so horrible and hateful like our parents," Sheila continued somberly. "Each generation has the obligation to improve on the past one's behavior. We're merciful, so _you_ need to learn to be compassionate. It's the only reasonable next step."

"I'd say making me marry one kind of takes it a few steps _beyond_ just the next one," he scoffed. "You threw me a few fucking miles away from where you are."

"And yet, look how well you're adjusting," she reminded him with a small grin quirking on her lips again. "There will always be more humans like Kendra than like King Eric. Just as there will always be more elves like you than like the Olath. Words of evil spread faster and stronger than words of kindness. Always remember that." She paused, looking as Kyle's shoulders slumped, his fingers sheepishly scratching at his arm and his eyes falling to the ground. The echoes of guilt rang across his exhausted face and she couldn't help an inward beaming. Kyle was headstrong without a doubt, but the notion of he himself being what he so _hated_ always brought him back to where he was supposed to be. It grounded him, made him more determined to be a better person. It had ever since he was a child. "Bubbie," she continued, waiting for Kyle to look back at her with remorse-laced green eyes, "It's hard," she sympathized. "I know it is. And I know you were thrown into this without warning."

"That's an understatement," he muttered, flinching as she lightly smacked his knee.

"But do you _really_ think being with her is so awful?" she pressed.

Kyle opened his mouth a bit, eyes flickering to Stan leaning against the wall, very purposefully diverting his attention towards the windows on either side of the thrones. Kyle's heart sank, seeing the subtle quiver of Stan's strong jaw and he ducked his head down with a sigh. "I don't know," he whispered. "Everything's changing… I wasn't ready for it."

"Yes, you were," she corrected. "If you weren't, you would have tried running off. You would have fought much harder against it than you did. You wouldn't be making the _effort_ to make this work."

He rolled his eyes, "You didn't exactly give me a choice, Ma."

She smirked, "No. But, if you _were_ given a choice, we'd probably still be having this conversation."

Kyle paused, looking from her to Stan again and slumping, giving a tiny nod. "Probably," he muttered. "I just… I don't know how it's going to _work_ ," he said. "If she could talk, it'd be so much simpler. Maybe for a princess, it's a charming thing. But as a _queen_ , I feel like that could easily incite a declaration that we're incompetent as a monarchy," he winced.

Sheila nodded softly, "It'll be hard. But you two are already communicating well, you'll only get better with time, Bubbie. Just be patient with her. She's being patient with you."

He narrowed his eyes a bit, "Whaddya mean?"

She chuckled, waving him off. "Nevermind, Sweetie." She watched him trying and failing to stifle a yawn, swaying a bit on his chair. "Why don't you go back and walk around a bit?" she suggested. "Within the next hour we'll find someone to send for you and let you get some rest."

He nodded, rubbing at his heavy lids and getting back to his feet. He glanced over, seeing Stan and Christophe already up and at attention waiting for him and rolled his eyes. "Sooner I can sleep the better," he mumbled, turning on his heel and walking up between his guards, leading them on the way out of the throne room with a small goodbye wave to his parents.

They watched after him until the heavy door shut behind Stan and Christophe, finally looking at each other with tired, proud smiles. "He's handling this much better than I thought he would," Gerald commented.

Sheila grinned, picking up her coffee and taking a long sip. "I told you he'd find her suitable. You know how he is. You just have to let him get there on his own."

He nodded, pulling over the stack of papers Kendra had handed them, eyes lazily lingering over a few lines of her delicately etched script. "Hopefully he doesn't take too long with what concerns Kendra."

She hummed, "I don't think it's concerning. I think she finds it endearing more than anything."

Gerald cocked his head, face scrunching a bit in skepticism of the claim as he read over a set of lines. _'I would have asked Prince Kyle for his opinion on the matter, but he seems to have a bit of a problem with giving me an opinion that could seem like he's asserting his beliefs hold more weight than my own. I'm aware he never means it like that, but he's very timid, at least when it comes to matters of Kupa Keep. Perhaps it's merely a fear of possibly insulting me, I'm not quite sure, but I'm very careful to not mention what life previously was for myself around him, for fear of him following my lead and going mute.'_

"You really think so?" Gerald questioned his wife. "I've never known Kyle to be… ' _timid'_ ," he quoted. "I don't think that boy's feared anything but you punishing him for getting out of line," he laughed.

She joined him and shrugged, "He doesn't want to hurt her feelings, he still doesn't know how to approach their differences. Nothing wrong with that."

He hummed, "Well, considering they only have five months left before they're _married_ , I don't think he should be so unsure."

She rolled her eyes a bit, taking another small sip. "When have you ever known him to keep his opinions to himself regarding the humans? Or step carefully around someone's feelings?" Gerald stared at her a bit, blinking slowly and she smirked. "Exactly. Learn to read your son, Gerald. This is going _much_ smoother than we thought it would."

He shifted back in his chair, tapping his foot a bit. "You sure it's not just because she's a lady? Or because he doesn't want to risk upsetting _you_?"

"Remember how he treated Princess Bebe?" she reminded him. "He was _very_ blunt about how her lands were being foolish with their spending. Didn't _hesitate_ to tell her it was her allowance on parties that was aiding their deficit more than anything."

Gerald shrugged, "But they're friends."

"Well yes, _now_ ," she drawled. "They weren't when Kyle launched into his tirade against her. You know how he is; he'll step carefully around us, Ike, and Stanley. That's it. _Only_ people he cares for," she emphasized. She paused, gazing into her cup and smiling, "And judging by the way they looked at each other as she was leaving, I don't think it's merely a matter of respect."

He looked between her and the door, "Whaddya mean? What'd they do?"

She sighed, "Oh, Gerald." He just continued staring at her, Sheila chuckling to herself. She'd easily caught how their eyes had softened, how her very private son had allowed her to touch his face without the slightest of a flinch. Not to mention the look of _fondness_ and _pride_ that Kyle exuded upon hearing of Kendra's intentions. It was a marvel, something she'd never seen from him in all his eighteen years. Perhaps Gerald couldn't see it; he wasn't expecting anything more than a monarchal union built on the principle of royal ties alone. But Sheila, she could see more. That second day of Kendra's being within their walls, seeing that passing comment of Kyle's blushing at her presence, more than told an observant mother all she needed to know. She'd just been waiting, waiting for that chance to sleep comfortably at night knowing that no matter how he tried to hide it, Kyle was comfortable, if not _happy_ with the arrangements made in his name. Today in his tired state, he'd shown more than he probably ever intended to, and it sent Sheila's worrisome, guilted nature for forcing him into a marriage down into a calmed tranquility.

She _knew_ she'd made the right choice, and Kyle, whether he chose to believe it or not as of now, agreed.


	22. The Foreign Suspicion

Stan hated these two-hour blocks of nothingness, these routine instances where he was expected to stay away from his prince and merely stare at the wall across from outside Kyle's bedroom door. He wanted nothing more than to venture upstairs, hold the prince while he got his much-needed allotted rest. But Kyle simply wouldn't have it, always astutely aware of every touch when he was in this state. He just wanted to be left alone, nothing but his quilt and pillow making any form of contact less he be distracted from his minimal sleep.

He sighed dramatically, leaning back against the wall and tapping the toe of his heavy boot against the unfinished floor. Stan knew he was being selfish wishing he could be with Kyle, especially with the elf in such a vulnerable state. Kyle got not only snippy, but clingy when he was in these predicaments. Stan always had a feeling it was because Kyle had a deep-seated fear that he'd never shared with anyone: The fear that one of these spells may finally be enough to do him in. So, Stan had theorized, part of Kyle keeping him out of his quarters was for the sake of not losing himself in _craving_ physicality. He needed to rest, and having himself be thrown into a dependent state with arms and legs wide open for Stan to make him forget the coming storm was the _last_ thing he needed. When the rule had been instated a few years prior, Kyle had insisted Stan use the time to go and relax since he'd be wound up with anxiety. Stan, however, just wouldn't have that. They'd come to the annoyed consensus that he could remain outside Kyle's door, still perfectly able to hear him should trouble arise. Neither were happy with the arrangement, but that seemed to be the case for most of Stan's protective bouts.

Blue eyes flickered dully around the corridor, finding themselves landing on the sprawling reach of a vine that climbed up the stone wall and vanished into a crack in the foundation. He let out a forlorn sigh, remembering he and Kyle, along with Clyde and Token, having competitions with one another to see who could scale the highest up on any of the multitude of vines growing around the palace when they were nearly seven. The other three would always be waiting beneath with their arms outstretched, ready to catch them when they finally reached their limit. They'd done this for months, Token holding the record before the queen had caught them as Kyle had been determinedly making his way towards the top with tiny grunts and his tongue poking out, wanting more than anything to beat Token's held victory. A shrill shriek of panic from his mother had thrown him, slipping and falling into the stiffened, terrified arms of his friends. She'd told the three others to go to the kitchen and stay there until given permission to leave, Kyle watching them go with that inherent childhood fear of repercussions deep in his eyes as they sulked away.

Nearly two hours passed before Kyle somberly found his way to them and their still-tensed states. He quietly told them they weren't in any trouble, but he was. Sheila had come in after him, telling him to go on to his room since he'd calmed their fears of punishment as was intended. Silently he did as told, leaving three terrified human children alone with the elven queen, the woman who'd become their collective mother and could punish them just as if she were of their blood. She'd sat down with them and had given them a stern, but concerned look that was still etched into the back of Stan's mind as he underwent his guard duties all these years later. She'd reminded them all that yes, Kyle was their friend. But he was their sovereign to-be before _all_ else. They couldn't allow the next-in-line to be purposely risking his life playing those kinds of games when they had plenty of _safe_ activities to do with one another. Larnion had become home to them all, and Sheila reminded them that should they want to continue growing up and potentially prospering in elven land, they had to remember that it would hinge on Kyle's safety.

The three of them had told Kyle that when they'd finally been allowed to see him again days later as his punishment was alleviated, the young prince scoffing and rolling his eyes dramatically at the notion. She'd told him the same thing, and he hated it with every fiber of his being. Clyde had teased him, asking if that meant he was going to be like the royalty of folklore and run away from his duties and start a new life. Kyle had seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking his head, making up some joke about not wanting to lose the great food the chefs prepared for his family. But Stan, even in youth, could read there was more to it than Kyle had let on. There was an understanding that he was coming to grips with, probably drilled into him by hours of his mother's lectures.

Slowly, but surely, Kyle was realizing how much power he had just out of his grasp, waiting for him when he finally took the crown for his own. He knew he couldn't run from it, couldn't leave _Ike_ in charge of Larnion should the unexpected come about. As much as Stan would catch him pouting at a vine before leading the group onwards towards something else to occupy their time, Kyle, along with Stan, finally started to understand the weight his life held in the grand scheme of the kingdom.

Stan had held onto that truth since that day. Kyle, however, had seemed to somewhat drift from it. Every political move he made was performed with the intention of benefitting his people, but those subtle hints of personal rebellion seemed to still drive the young prince forward. Slipping out of his guards' watch, sneaking outside on horseback now and again just to escape his mother's ever-watching eye. He'd learned the art of the bow, found himself practicing magics that royalty had no need to hold command over. He'd sneak extra snacks out for himself and the other boys, mocked other diplomats behind their back before straightening up and slapping on that faux dignity in an instant. He'd found himself in bed with a human time and again for _years_ , continuing to do so as he was engaged, uncharacteristically thinking only of himself as he let himself become lost in the all-consuming spell that Stan somehow put him into when hovering over him.

Stan sighed, eyes dropping from the vine and looking down at the floor, brows furrowing in the slightest. It was the only place he could cast that spell, could hold every ounce of Kyle's attention, and he damn well knew it. Otherwise, he'd be distracted with other happenings. Whether it be an upcoming council, his studies, his next "grand" escape for a few hours. Or, now, more often than he probably even realized, he was distracted with _Kendra_. She'd somehow wormed her way into becoming a common conversation topic between the prince and his ranger. It'd started out slow, Kyle only making a joke with a brightly colored robe of his as he changed that if he wore it for too long, the poor girl may become both mute _and_ blind. But steadily over the last week, Kyle had found _more_ to interject her into when she wasn't around. But, Stan had concluded, how could he be the _least_ bit surprised?

Not after finding them holding hands and resting against one another in the hallway. No, that'd made it _more_ than clear to him where this was all most likely to head. Unless he could somehow talk sense into Kyle and his mother at least in regards to his safety. Stan was no fool, knew that the threat of Kyle's life was minimal, but only for _now_. That wouldn't last once he was placed into a union with Kupa Keep's princess. He would have bitter elves who considered him a traitor against his own kind. He would have humans who declared him filthy, their princess far too good for him. Assassination was going to be an ever-present threat, one that Stan knew would turn his hair grey and smite any ounce of youthful energy as he would become nothing more than a rock of defensive readiness, much as Kyle would loathe it.

"Sir Stanley, eez zere some'zeeng troubleeng you?" a deep voice broke through his worried visions of the future.

He glanced towards Christophe leaning against the opposite side of Kyle's door, brow cocked at Stan, who'd been lost in thought for a good five minutes before Christophe broke his train of thought. He shrugged, "These bouts aren't easy for any of the palace workers."

"I would zink only ze prince and 'is family should be so deestracted."

He rolled his eyes, "No, we _all_ get distracted. A lot hinges on him making it through."

"Eef 'e 'as for zis many years, I would zink your, 'ow you say… opteemeesm should be 'igher, no?"

Stan shook his head and sighed. How he wished for naivety like that again. He wasn't stupid, he knew that Kyle _would_ more than likely pull through. But those days of his spell always smashed down logic, fear overriding everyone's confidence in his ability to push through. There was a reason Kyle would always eventually wake up to his palace looking more strung-out than he felt. "You'll understand," he murmured, Christophe giving him a shrug and Stan twisting his lips. He hadn't had too many opportunities to speak with the man beside of him, opting to keep it firmly rooted in duty. But right now, Kyle was safely tucked away under his quilt, his guards almost feeling awkward with one another now that they weren't surrounding him or searching for him after he cleverly got away from them again. Stan wondered if he was going to be stuck with Christophe the remainder of his life, the two never exchanging more than tactics for finding their prince.

He wondered if he could even goddamn _stand_ that.

"Marsh, Christophe," a dry voice approached them from down the hall. Stan stiffened, looking to see Craig, Kendra, and Butters making way towards them, all of them looking far more worried than Stan would have expected. Even Craig held the slightest crease of his brow, his sharp grey eyes cutting to Kyle's door before landing back on them both, Stan noticing a lingering gaze locked on Christophe.

The three of them stopped across the corridor, both Stan and Christophe giving polite, short bows to the princess. "Is something wrong?" Stan asked as he stood back up, nearly jerking back at a paper being thrust into his face by a slender, gloved hand.

He took it and blinked at a, _'Is he doing all right? He looked awful when I saw him this morning.'_

Stan grimaced, handing the paper back to her worrying state and nodding. "He'll be fine. He's just exhausted, Your Highness." She seemed to sink at the words, reading more in his somber tone and looking at the door with concern etched into glassy eyes. Stan stared at her a bit, dumbfounded by how much he could read in such a simple expression. It relieved him. It _angered him_. He sighed to himself, knowing he _needed_ to figure out how to get this all under control.

He shook out of it as another paper was passed, this time to Christophe. He took it with a frown, reading, _'So, just where is it you hail from? How did you come about to be in Larnion?'_

Christophe looked up, Kendra staring at him intensely waiting for an answer. "Just why do you need to know, Your 'ighness?" he asked coolly.

Butters cleared his throat, pulling a stack of paper rolled in his side pocket and scanning over, lips moving as he read along silently before finding his target. "Um, Princess Kendra believes that… that she should know your origins since y-you're to be guarding her future hus-husband," he shrugged.

Christophe's muddled eyes never broke from the long gaze with the princess, but he gave a casual shrug. "I was abandoned on ze outskirts of ze Canadeean border. Grew up een ze woods. Zen came to Larneeon to use my skeells for good."

Another paper was passed, _'Why did you come here and not protect the Canadian kings? That's an awfully far way to travel when there was no guarantee you would be accepted as a Larnion guard.'_

Stan craned his neck, reading the large, purposeful inscription and straightening back up to look at Christophe himself. That was an _awfully_ good point, one that he himself had wondered about but knew that it was not within his rights to question it. Kendra, however, held the authority to do so.

So, she had _one_ benefit for Stan at the very least.

Christophe cleared his throat, tongue clicking. "I deed not know, zis eez true. But ze Larneeon guard eez ze most revered een all elven land, Your 'ighness. Eef I deed not make eet 'ere, I would 'ave gone back to Canada to try zere. I was very fortunate to not 'ave to do so."

Stan narrowed his eyes, "You told me you owed the king and queen. Why did you believe that if you're not from here?"

He paused, eyes slicing towards Stan in a manner that nearly made him flinch. "Zey are who make ze final call een who eez permeetted to stay een ze guard, no?"

"No," he frowned. "Murphy makes that call. If you're sworn in to protect a member of the family in _particular_ , then yes, they must approve. Given, you would only need Prince Kyle's approval since he's of age and you're here for him."

"Ah," he shrugged. "Zen I was meestaken. 'owever, no one can deny zat ze Broflovskis are ze strongest rulers een ze land, no? Eet eez an 'onor to work een zheir court."

Kendra and Stan shared a bit of a look, both of them reading something _off_ about his tone. Craig hummed to himself, arms crossing as he and Christophe locked stares, both sets of analytical eyes ravaging over one another for information. "Thought only those raised in Larnion could become a member of the guard," he said dryly.

"I-I thought it was Larnion-born," Butters blinked.

Stan rolled his eyes, "Do _I_ look like I'm Larnion- _born_?" he pushed back his hair a bit, pointing to his humanoid ear. "Usually it's required to be raised in our culture, though, yeah," he cocked his brow. "So you don't interfere with duties in the interest of your homeland."

Christophe scoffed, "I do not _'ave_ a 'omeland," he reminded them. "I leeved een ze woods. I am not a ceeteezen of Canada, I merely grew up nearby. I 'ave no confleecteeng eenterests."

Craig gave him a small shrug. "Any elven land would've taken you in, they're hospitable enough. Isn't it usually only the Olath who live in the woods by choice?"

He growled under his breath, "Just _what_ are you eenseenuating, _Rogue?_ "

"Just saying it's _odd_ you didn't try to become a citizen of anywhere," he shrugged. "I lived in the woods but my group was still considered residents of Greely just so no one would question our origins."

Stan rolled his eyes, "Don't all rogues say they're from Greely?"

"It's a rundown country with nothing but stealing and poverty, where the hell else would we say we're from? Only place that gives a good reason to be a rogue," he scoffed. He glanced over at Christophe and cocked his brow, "But once I became her guard," he jerked his thumb back to Kendra, "I had to become an official citizen of Kupa Keep. Have _you_ done your paperwork to be part of Larnion?"

Christophe scowled, "Oui. Do you 'ave a _problem_ weez me, Tucker?"

"No," he shrugged. "Just curious how someone who lives like an Olath gained the trust of the captain of the guard so easily. Let alone was permitted to protect the next-in-line for the throne."

"'ow was a feelthy _rogue_ permeeted to protect ze preencess?" he shot back.

"Hey now, Fellers," Butters raised his hands, patting them against the air. "Let's not argue, everyone's just tense since Prince Kyle's so sick."

Stan bit his cheek, "He's not even sick yet. But Butters is right, the _last_ thing we need is for Kyle to wake up after only two hours of sleep and come down to everyone accusing each other of whatever. He's stressed enough, he doesn't need to pile this on top of his health."

Craig and Christophe continued glaring at each other but took a step back, letting out long, frustrated breaths. Kendra looked between them before glancing at Stan, biting her lip. She snagged a paper from Butters' hand and a quill from his belt, turning him enough for her to scribble down a quick note atop his back. She handed it off to Stan, who took it with a sigh, his eyes narrowing in the slightest at an urgent, _'Never leave him alone with Kyle.'_ Stan glanced up at the serious, dead-set tone settled over her eyes, handing it back to her and giving a short, if not confused, nod.

She returned the movement in confidence before squeezing Craig's arm for his attention, stepping off and leading her rogue and paladin off and away, the group of them feeling the slice of aggravated hazel eyes watching them before they turned a corner out of their sight. Kendra brought them to a stop beside a table with a blooming lily resting in a glass-embedded pot, Butters reading right off it was his cue to hand her her materials.

As she wrote, the men surrounding her looked between her work and one another. "He's an awful strange one, ain't he?" Butters said quietly.

"That's putting it mildly," Craig muttered. "He's more standoffish than _rogues_ I used to know and work with."

A paper was shoved in his face, _'So, you see it, too? You feel off about him as well?'_ he glanced up at the princess, her worried face nearly twisting his chest as he read _weeks'_ worth of concern regarding the elf leaking off of her.

Craig had learned in his years by her side that it was an expression to not take lightly. Anyone she felt off about had _reason_ for her to feel that way. They both excelled in it, reading facial cues and telltale twitches and tics that told them if someone was of virtue or not. Craig was raised in a community that could survive only by such methods, and her spending her life as the silent observer had taught her the same skills. They worked well as a unit, despite her grand standing over him in the court. She respected his opinions, just as he did her own. They had since day one, when Craig had been brought before the queen, the prince, and herself for stealing a hefty sum of their gold and losing his footing before he could escape.

Craig never forgot the bite of rope around his wrists, the infuriating manner in which he was shoved onto his knees and forced to look up at his betters as nothing more than an insignificant speck from the height of their thrones. The queen had been indecisive as to what to do regarding the situation as the prince had shouted from beside her that Craig was a thief, and thieves needed to be made examples of in public executions. Craig was only fourteen at the time, but held himself up tall as a man as he'd been taught by his band of rogues. Their code for this situation was more than simplistic: Don't cry, don't give away your brethren, do nothing but let what was going to happen happen.

While mother and son were talking amongst one another, torn on the subject as to his fate, Craig had locked eyes with the muted princess. She had been gangly and almost awkward as she was stepping into puberty at the time and fighting leg pains from a rapid growth spurt. She was fidgeting and staring at him with a cocked head, their caught gazes reading that there was more to one another than was on the surface. Craig couldn't tell what, in fact _still_ wasn't quite sure, but he knew it was something _big_. Something that kept the princess awake at night from the way her posture was constantly stiffened and wisteria swept under her eyes, by how she hid her face and neck so drastically. She was a mystery, one that was intriguing and frustrating all the same.

And Kendra? Kendra only saw Craig for what he was: A young boy who hadn't chosen the life he was given, but remained true to his people nonetheless. It resonated with her on a level that, even to this day, Craig didn't know of. She'd silently passed the queen a note as she continued reprimanding her son for such rash, violent decisions. Queen Liane had taken her letter, reading it with a small smile steadily growing over her face. Craig still didn't know exactly what was said in the note, but before he knew it, the queen was hushing her glutton of a son and getting to her feet. She'd brought Kendra up as well, the both of them diligently sliding down the steps of their thrones to be on the same ground-level as Craig, the rogue kept in his place on his knees as they approached him.

Liane had smiled at him in a way that was bewildering to one who'd just broken into her treasury. _"The princess has had a wonderful idea,"_ she'd cooed. _"We are giving you a choice. We will not ask you where you are from or about any of your group, we know that would get us nowhere."_ Craig had nodded at that. _"However, the princess is in need of a personal guard, and she believes that you would be best suited to use your skills for the benefit of Kupa Keep. Should you accept, there will be no charges, only training to eventually protect the princess. It's either that or imprisonment. Which do you prefer, young man?"_

Craig couldn't remember how he'd accepted the offer, or the exact way that Cartman had stomped his feet like the spoiled child he was. He could only recall the pure joy and hope that Kendra had exuded at his agreement. She'd saved his life that afternoon, and he was paying off the debt one day at a time. The last four years, he never left her side. He wasn't _nearly_ as clingy and worried for her as Stan was for _his_ protected, but he remained vigilant, no matter how flawlessly he pulled off the air of nonchalance.

After all, if he seemed relax, that would encourage the dangers to come out of hiding easier, which meant that he could catch them off guard by being always on his toes, always ready to defend the crown. He was finding Stan and himself were the opposite ends of the spectrum in how they handled their related positions. Stan was always fearing what was around every corner, and Craig was just unconcernedly waiting.

However, that observation made Christophe just seem all the more _concerning_.

He seemed to be _neither_ in regards to Kyle's safety. While he seemed just purely casual as Craig appeared, he didn't hold the same air of _readiness_. He didn't constantly have his hand right by one of his weapons as Craig did. His eye didn't scan each room they made way into, looking for potential threats before turning back forward. Craig could pick up on patterns of people with ease, and he'd noticed more than once how Larnion guards practiced their vigilance. There was a hand always stretched forward in the slightest in case they needed to grab the royalty and throw them back behind them for protection. Their eyes had a certain pattern whenever they entered a new room: Forward, door, window, ceiling, sweeping line across the foreground, then back forward. They were taught to always be on the lookout, to never stop being ready for what was around the bend, just as Kupa Keep's soldiers. And these soldiers actually _liked_ their monarchy, any one of them would be proud to lay down their lives if it meant the Broflovskis made it safely away from the threat.

Christophe, however, did none of these things. That only spoke one truth considering how deeply engrained it seemed to be in all his fellow guards: Christophe didn't go through his training. Somehow, he'd slipped right on through and secured himself the highest, the most _revered_ guarding position in the kingdom. Kyle and Kendra both were the new commodities of Larnion, protecting either of them held more weight than even standing in front of the king and queen with the path that they were setting for their respective kinds. How an untrained, _uninterested_ foreigner like Christophe had managed to sneak in through the rankings and come out on the prince's side, Craig couldn't even _begin_ to figure out.

And, so it seemed, neither could Kendra.

He clutched her note a little tighter in his hand, watching her waiting with that concerned brow and he nodded. "Yeah. I don't trust the guy. I don't think he gives a single fucking shit about the prince's safety… I don't know what he's here for. But it's _not_ to keep him protected." Kendra's face fell into devastation, an agreement of her own views clenching her heart enough for it to pain her chest and send her chin quaking with fear.

Butters pouted, "Now, now how can we be _sure_ of that?" he looked up as they both glanced at him. "We don't know Christophe one bit, maybe he's just… not so good with people," he winced. "After all, he was raised in the woods."

"So was I," Craig reminded him, getting a shamed cringe out of the paladin. "If he was just a fucking baker or something I wouldn't care, but he's a _guard_. He doesn't seem to act like it." Kendra sighed, beginning to write again as the men continued staring at one another. "Prince Kyle is probably safer with _just_ the ranger than he is with Christophe nearby."

"Maybe his methods are just different," he shrugged.

"None of the other royal guards have different methods," he quirked his brow. "The king, queen, and younger prince's guards all have the same pattern as Marsh. Why does _Christophe_ get to do things differently? A conflict of methods puts the prince in _more_ danger should trouble arise. I'm sure whoever they're training to work with me will have the same way of working."

Butters nodded softly, knuckles rubbing against one another and eyes falling to the ground. "Yeah… Yeah, I don't like 'im either," he admitted in a murmur. "Ya ever see the way he _looks_ at Kyle? It don't seem right."

"Exactly," Craig agreed. "He looks like there's a grudge. Or he's waiting for _something_."

Butters gulped, "Do ya… do ya think he's gonna kill 'im?" he whispered.

He shook his head, "No. No he's had opportunities to do so. Get both him _and_ Marsh down, but he hasn't taken 'em. I just don't know what he wants," he shrugged. He glanced down at another piece of paper flying under his nose, taking it with a quiet sigh.

' _Promise me something. If you see him making a move towards Kyle, if it looks like he's in the_ _ **slightest**_ _bit of danger, stop Christophe. If you have to kill him, do it. I'll take the blame on it and tell them I ordered it from you. Just don't let him hurt him.'_

Craig slowly raised his brow, looking back up at Kendra's glossed eyes and her jaw tremoring in the slightest under her scarf. "You really think he'll hurt him, don't you?"

She reached forward and snagged the paper, turning it over and shoving a pre-written note back into his hands. _'Kyle is far too trusting. He told me he'll go with both mine and Stan's opinions on Christophe after two weeks. But with him being so sick, it's going to be the last thing on his mind. And apparently, he's going to be_ _ **beyond**_ _vulnerable when this bout hits. If Christophe wanted to hurt him, he'd do it while he's laid up, right?'_

Craig couldn't exactly poke holes in that logic, but he also knew Kyle was going to be surrounded by the healer, his parents, and Marsh more often than not. But, she was right. One moment that Christophe had alone with Kyle would be more than enough if the rumors were true. He took a deep breath, nodding slowly and looking back at her. "We won't leave him alone, there won't be any time the prince is by himself with the foreigner," he promised. He paused, biting his tongue a bit, grey eyes shimmering with an opportunity he'd been waiting to seize. "At least… if you can help _me_ with something, Your Highness."


	23. Conflict of Interests

Honestly, it was such a small fee, Kendra couldn't imagine why Craig hadn't made the request earlier. In fact, she was beyond confused as to why he believed that it would _cost her_ to do what he wanted and felt the need to wait for this type of opportunity.

Given, she couldn't exactly deny a part of her hated what she was doing. Not because of Craig's end, not in the least. But communicating with Cartman was just _always_ a pain in the neck.

Her quill rested on the inkwell prepped beside her on the bench, tongue gliding over her upper lip under her scarf. She sighed, staring at the blank papyrus resting on the book atop her lap just waiting for her script. She had to figure out how to do this correctly. Not so demanding as to immediately shut off any hope of his approval, but not so meekly asking as to let him brush it off as nothing more than a timid suggestion. The iron of her quill tip tapped rhythmically against the glass bottle, barely audible under the blossoming sound of summer all around her.

She took a long, deep breath, lips curling in the slightest at the potent aroma of bloomed zinnias wafting around her in an almost overwhelming takeover of the senses. She adored it. Kyle hadn't been kidding when he told her the elves thrived off nature, that they gave it the respect that it deserves and the room to be what it was meant to be. Kupa Keep was not bereft of plant life, but certainly wasn't flourishing this extent. And what few gardens they had she rarely got to venture out to see with the king keeping such tight lock on her. Not in Larnion, though.

Here, _everywhere_ was a garden. Every yard was filled with color and life, every home and business was created to accommodate what had laid there prior to their construction. Even the palace itself was a tangle of corridors and winding passages to wrap around trees that seemed older than time itself. It was a land _of_ the land, and Kendra wondered if every elven culture held true to their roots as the Broflovskis kept their kingdom.

Blue eyes fluttered open, a content smile spreading along golden cheeks. Everything about Larnion whispered 'home'. It was nothing but comforts, familiarity, and traditions. Even the ever-tumultuous whirlwind of politics took a backseat to elves coming to a stop and basking in the glow that the earth gave them so generously. She herself hadn't indulged in these pleasures nearly enough, a part of her still stuck in Kupa Keep, she could only assume. She was aware that she had nearly complete free rein to galivant as she pleased, especially within the palace's allowances. But a part of her still hesitated warily, just waiting to hear that bellowing shout, to be dragged off to a conference room and given the same lecture she'd received time and again. Nothing but a mess of how a single branch catching her scarf could blow the entire ruse, how a pollen-induced sneeze could prompt noise that most thought impossible from her.

Here, in the eastern garden of the Larnion palace, none of those things seemed possible. Not for something so delightfully picturesque. Not here, under the shade of full linden trees, dappling sunlight peeking through and spotting over her and the stone bench she found herself upon in her wanderings. She'd requested Craig and Butters to leave her be in the garden, Craig only allowing it after a quick scan and noting the elven guards spread along the far outside perimeter of the land. She'd needed this more than she thought. Needed time to let herself breathe in the fresh, dewy air. Her only outside venturing had been into the city, where her nerves were beyond frayed. But this, this was lovely. This was the nature that Kyle so loved, felt such a connection with.

This was what she was supposed to be a queen of.

Her smiled dripped at the notion, continuing to stare into the jumbled mess of branches swaying above her. A long, somber sigh left her, that practiced demeanor slipping right out the door with it.

What was he going to do? Kenny could only keep this up for so long before he was found out. He still didn't know how Cartman was imagining this would go. He'd done excellent so far at staying hidden, despite how many eyes were so constantly on him. His greatest challenges had come merely from getting measured by Queen Sheila's handmaidens… and Kyle.

Kyle was _definitely_ the obstacle in keeping just what he was in the shadows.

Never had he wanted _so desperately_ to speak to someone. In Kupa Keep, staying silent was more than easy enough. Few ever had anything of worth to respond to. But the elven prince seemed to be a plethora of potential hours-long discussions. He was so _expressive_ to just what he was given on paper, Kenny could only imagine how much more he could worm out of him with a sly drop into a suggestive tone, an excitable shout.

He sighed again. It was a lovely dream, something he would find himself envisioning late into the night when sleep just couldn't seem to fall into his grasp. Hypothetical conversations were plentiful, Kenny managing to calculate to the closest octave just where Kyle's voice would fall at certain phrases. His eyes glimmered with faint wistfulness, wondering how Kyle would react to the way his own voice liked to jump in volume when given the chance. The strange cracks that still wormed their way into his speech from so long of minimal usage. He pondered if Kyle would enjoy his tone, or find it grating in some way. If he would hang onto Kenny's every word like the seed of a dandelion, just waiting to get whisked off into the air from a change of his breath. Perhaps Kyle would find his mannerisms as enthralling as Kenny found his to be, and he would find himself thinking about them out of nowhere, wanting to extract a particular reaction from him as Kenny so often did.

Kenny found himself smirking, curious as to whether Kyle would find something about him so entertaining he'd never want it to stop as he did the prince's tendency to blush and squeak at a surprisingly risqué comment. Ken knew he was really pushing a line, that he was finding himself far more intertwined with his betrothed than Cartman probably expected. He was only here to gain Kyle's trust, to get an answer to a question he didn't ever want to ask. One he didn't know if he _could_ ask. It was a danger on every level: Kyle could figure out Cartman's scheme at the drop of a hat, Kenny knew he was far too smart to just let it slip on by as a presumption of innocent naivety. Or, the other alternative, Kenny would be singlehandedly destroying the Drows.

Both were awful, one far more than the other, but both did have a similar connective thread that lead to the conclusion: Kyle was going to get hurt. Whether through purely feeling betrayed by someone he allowed himself to trust or finding his kingdom in ruins with himself at the helm of the destruction, this wasn't going to end well for him.

Kenny's shoulders dropped, eyes burning. He didn't ever want it to happen, neither of them. He didn't want to be the one to hurt someone who'd treated him with such a kind hand. He didn't want to have Kyle turn his back on all humankind once and for all, declare the entire race to be nothing but vile monsters that another generation could deal with if they wanted peace so badly. Kenny didn't want to be what destroyed such geniality, such faith in the inherent goodness of others, even with deep-seated prejudices always lingering in the back of the elf's mind. He was fighting through them to make this engagement work, to make sure his betrothed felt included in this strange land.

That damning question of Cartman's could undo all of that.

Kenny had a bit over four months left, and he was more than determined to figure out just how he could avoid it, how he could somehow save both Kyle _and_ his sister. He was being torn apart by the two of them, his old life of family and fond memories now conflicting with the tender grasp of something more to be had if things continued the way that they were. Given, that possibility was laden with its own problems, but Kenny wanted to work them _all_ out. Get Karen safe, tell Kyle the truth, and let things happen from there, just hope that Kyle would feel the same about him regardless of what he was hiding.

The hope was perhaps naïve, he knew. But it was one of the few dreams he'd found himself having outside of helping his family in so goddamn long. He just wanted it _so much_.

A glance at the still-blank parchment snapped Kenny right back into place, right back into a princess' agreement still left to fulfill. She sighed, shaking her head. She didn't know how to approach this. Working towards _anything_ with Cartman could very well be another way for her to be entrapped. But, Craig was sick of how he was being treated, how his and Tweek's letters to one another were being intercepted or Cartman was just flat-out refusing to let Tweek write him. Kendra couldn't find his logic in that, but then again, she could rarely find his logic in anything that he did.

She could only figure that it was only due to Tweek being so close to the court, how he could very easily overhear something not meant to be heard. If word got from him to Craig about the schemes being hatched, Craig would take it to herself, or worse, to the king and queen. The possibility of war was teetering on the horizon, people only somewhat kept reassured by the idea of the impending union. One confession to the Larnion royalty could send their army marching straight towards Kupa Keep's gates, Kendra's head on a pike for such deceit.

Kendra rolled her eyes at herself. She knew better than that. _So_ much better than that. But, hearing those stories all throughout her life of how the elves were torturers of humankind still found themselves nestled deep in her psyche, despite knowing _damn_ well that the Broflovskis would never allow such horrors on their watch. At most, should things take such a turn of discourse, maybe she would be held as a prisoner for bargaining or something of the sort. Hopefully. She wondered if breaking the prince's heart would turn that, if Kyle would call for her head in a fit of emotion-driven revenge.

Hell, she wondered if this would count as breaking the prince's heart. Perhaps that was a bit egotistic to believe of her hold on him.

"Kendra? You all right?" a half-croaked voice called.

She whipped her head around, smiling at her visitor. Speaking of the devil. Kyle looked at her from a bit of a distance, seeming to warble in his place. Her smile once more fell; he looked utterly destroyed from his last few days of 'treatment'. She nodded, waving him over to sit with her and scooching on the bench to give him space. He seemed to consider it for a moment, glancing back at the door of the palace and sighing before slowly stepping her way. She felt her heart wrenching as he stumbled a bit, a hand slightly out in front of him to catch himself should he fall forward. He reminded her of some of the elderly citizens of Kupa Keep that would come in asking for loans from the palace, the ones that would need a younger soul to guide them forward so they wouldn't embarrass themselves before royalty.

With great care, Kyle finally made way through the courtyard to the bench, nearly falling down into the seat beside her and seeming winded from his twenty-yard journey. She gulped, looking at the subtle tremors of hunger and exhaustion racking through him, the vines splashing through his sclera and the wobbling way in which he sat. He swayed with the wind, not having the vigor needed to stand strong against such a gentle breeze. Kendra pouted, scooching a bit closer and putting her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her and smirked lightly, "I know. I look like a fucking mess," he laughed humorlessly.

She glanced at the blank parchments still on her lap, shrugging to herself. Her letter could come later, she'd promised Craig it'd be completed by the end of the day, so she still had more than enough time. She hastily scribbled him a message, Kyle taking it and squinting his eyes slightly through his tiredness. _'I don't know about that, you make even sickness look pretty cute.'_

She grinned at him looking at her with an unamused expression, waggling her brows and he let out a tiny snort. "I'm too tired to argue how stupid that sounds. Enjoy it. This is one of the only instances that's ever the case," he warned her through a yawn.

Kendra smirked as she wrote a response, seeing that confession as full-blown permission to see just how far she could press before bringing out that feisty snap of his that was such a joy to watch. Maybe it'd perk him up at the very least, give him that burst of energy he seemed to so desperately need. She handed him another paper, propping her cheek in her palm as she watched him slowly changing colors. _'Oh, well if that's the case, then I'm going to take this opportunity to tell you that you have the most slappable ass I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. Bet I could get it as red as your face right now.'_

"Okay, this is taking advantage of me in my weakened state," he complained, crumpling the paper and throwing it back at her face as she violently struggled to stop from bursting into a roaring laughter. He sighed and shook his head, rubbing at his blearing eyes as he waited for her to stop shaking so damn much. He looked back up with a gentle nudge against his arm, seeing her lean against him briefly with a fond, teasing sparkle in her eyes, feeling his face redden deeper. He was too goddamn tired to deal with this and try to bluff his way through everything like usual; he felt strangely vulnerable under that doting stare. He cleared his throat, "Seriously, though. You all right? You looked like something was bothering you." That glitter seemed to get snuffed out all at once, Kyle snapping into a panic that he'd said the wrong thing. "If you don't wanna tell me, that's fine," he assured her hurriedly, nearly stumbling over his words.

God, did she wanna tell him. She wanted to just tell him everything right now. If he was healthy, maybe it would have been momentarily considered. But he was right, outside of teasing, anything big said would be taking advantage of him. She wasn't about to do something like that to him. Kendra opted to wave him off and plaster that smile back on, leaning her forehead down against his temple. He blinked, nearly falling at the sudden weight before a gloved hand intertwined into his own bare, shaking fingers. He gulped, wondering if his disillusions had really come to a head here of all places, if he was sitting in his goddamn room leaning against his wardrobe and thinking it was another person.

Kendra took a long, deep breath, relishing in the scent of spice and coffee mingling with the smell of toasted sap and wildflowers in an intoxicating combination. He was the personification of warmth, everything to love about late summer and early fall swept into this one body. She grinned slyly, free hand reaching up to pull down her scarf in the slightest, pressing wet lips against the side of his head, pecking lightly time and again, finding new spots as she traveled. Kyle was speechless, tremoring halted and fingers flexing around Kendra's own. He quietly squeaked at a light press against his ear, feeling Kendra's smile gliding wider from the sound and his stomach twisting into knots.

She backed off, readjusting her covering before coming back into his view, watching him with a raised brow of amusement. He seemed so dazed, so _humiliated_ at his unwarranted noises. She chuckled to herself, twisting to write him another note with her free hand, keeping his fingers captive in her own as he stared at her in utter silence. He glanced down at a paper being held up in front of his face. _'Are you all right, my dear?'_

He gulped, looking at her sparkling gaze and taking a long, shaking breath. "I… I'm gonna be honest… I-I'm so tired I don't know if that actually happened or not," he admitted, eyelids drooping. "I'm sorry, I'm really fucking just… I feel awful."

Kendra's grin slipped off her face yet again, scooting herself closer to the weary soul. She unwove their fingers, sliding her arm around his shoulders and pulling him lightly into her side, her hand landing in his hair. Kyle opened his mouth to protest before fingertips oh-so-lovingly began to pat over his skull, his exhausted form melting at the kind treatment. He'd been forced up so rigidly the last week, demanded to keep himself taut and wound and moving to keep awake. But he couldn't pull away from this, his eyes slipping closed as he sunk closer against her. He could fall asleep, just stay right here with her warm hold and the scent of daffodils wafting off her skin. Kyle couldn't help but smile, feeling her leaning her head atop his own as she continued to pet him down. "You must come out here a lot," he mumbled, nearly knocked out already. "You always smell like one of the gardens. Were you in the northern one earlier?" he questioned through a yawn, knowing even through his stupor that it was where their array of daffodils was in full bloom.

She cocked her brow in the slightest, shifting carefully to grab her notes and quill, scripting another letter as she continued to pet through his thick hair. The back part of her mind couldn't help but wonder how it felt beneath the silk of her gloves, how soft and plush it must be. How it would curl around bare skin and cling to it, try to keep her with it. She sighed. Maybe one day. She finished her note, tapping his head and waiting patiently as he forced himself to pry his eyes back open. He squinted at a simple _'actually, this is the first time I've been out in any of them. This is the first time I've been outside aside from when you took me to the kingdom.'_

He blinked, slowly sitting back up and staring at the innocent cock of her head, mind whirling in bewilderment. _'Then why do you always smell like the forest?'_ he wondered to himself, lost in the mystery sitting before him.

She moved to write another query before a sharp jerk caught her peripheral. Kyle inhaled sharply, clutching his left side and his mouth dropping open, labored pants scraping through his throat. She released her quill, reaching forward and gripping his arm, heart pounding in terror at the agony wreaking havoc over his face. She gasped at a ghastly green glow glossing over his eyes, his entire body shaking, jaw audibly clattering. He cried out, wobbling and trying to find a semblance of the ground again, completely lost in his own haze as Kendra tried shaking his arm, tried to get him back with her.

A blaring agony ricocheted through his chest and he let out a stifled sob before the glow fell from his gaze, his eyes rolling back and slipping shut. Kendra let out an audible cry of dismay, unable to help herself as he limply folded over. She dove forward as he collapsed onto the dirt, shoving her hand under his head to keep him from making an impact. Her breath turned short and panicked, gaping at the unconscious prince in her arms and looking around frantically. She needed to get him help _now_ , but she couldn't just leave him unprotected in the fucking garden.

Kendra narrowed her eyes in determination, moving Kyle to turn to his stomach and throwing his arm over her shoulders. She took a deep breath, years of being goddamn coddled as royalty was definitely not doing her any favors. Kyle was beyond slim, lighter than herself in fact, but she still struggled to stand herself up with his deadweight form. She gritted her teeth, grunting under her breath as she nearly got tangled in her dress and brought back down to the ground. She shook her head. No, not while Kyle so desperately needed her help. Kendra winced, throwing an arm around Kyle's waist and dragging his limp body towards the palace. She prayed, prayed to any of the deities she'd heard of in her lifetime for her to get him where he needed to be, to help her get herself forward.

Adrenaline was certainly helping, managing to make it a good foot with every step as Kyle's legs dragged behind them. _'He'd do this for you, fucking do it for_ _ **him**_ _,'_ she ordered herself with a groan. A sharp hiss slipped through her teeth, hearing Kyle groaning and she gulped. She wasn't expecting it to be so sudden, thought that maybe he'd slowly work his way towards it hitting him. No wonder everyone around the palace had been watching him with such sympathetic caution. She finally made it to the door, grunting and twisting to kick it open with a high-heeled shoe.

Kendra brought him into the hallway, looking around for signs of anyone, knowing full and well she couldn't goddamn _yell_ for help like she so wanted to. She spotted a servant down the way walking away from them. She growled, looking around in a hurry before finding a potted fern beside her. She licked over her lips, hoping when Kyle woke up he'd forgive her for what she was about to do. Her gloved hand snatched the lip of the pot, fingers dirtying at once in the rich soil as she whipped her arm around, watching the plant soaring down the hall before landing with a brittle crack as the clay shattered against the stone floor.

The servant whirled around in shock, seeing Kendra frantically waving the arm not clinging around Kyle's waist. He glanced down, seeing the unconscious redhead and his jaw dropped, pivoting and running towards them, bashing his fist against a door on the way. "Prince Kyle is down!" he shouted, continuing to sprint down the hall and help Kendra support his limp form.

The door burst open, a group of servants rushing out and finding them, frantic chatter picking up between the lot of them as they ran over. "Thank you, Your Highness, we have him," a handmaiden nodded at her as two larger men came over and picked up Kyle. He groaned, fingers unconsciously trying to grip onto Kendra's shoulder before he was torn away from her in a protective hold and hurried towards the other end of the palace.

Kendra made a move to run with them before being stopped with a gentle hand of the woman elf beside her sporting a dismal smile. "Let them take care of him first," she advised. "The healer will let you know when you can see him. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you."

Kendra's shoulders sank, looking back down the way they went, her jaw trembling. She wanted to go. She wanted to make sure they didn't drop him, that everyone was doing everything they possibly could to ensure his safety. She tremored with a sniffle, heart erratic and stomach cramping with anxiety.

That hand lightly rubbed her arm, the servant letting out a somber sigh. "Seeing it the first time is always the hardest," she told her. "It's scary, I know. But he'll be just fine, Princess Kendra, I promise."

Kendra looked down at her and cocked her head a bit through her turmoil. She didn't think she'd seen this particular maiden. She'd been here for nearly two months but was still finding new halls and people every day and it both fascinated and terrified her. Long brown hair flowed down her back, a simple softness lingering in green eyes spackled with golden flakes. She sniffed again, pointing at her and tilting her head more.

She blinked. "I… I'm sorry, Your Highness, I'm not sure what you're asking."

Kendra blinked, not particularly wanting to go run out for her paper for this. She brightened with an idea. She gestured to herself with her hands before lightly grasping the woman's arm and turning to a bare, pale forearm. She carefully spelled out 'K-e-n-d-r-a' with her finger, watching the woman's eyes lighten with understanding.

"Oh!" she exclaimed before chuckling. "My name is Heidi," she gave a polite curtsey.

Kendra returned a weak smile and bowed her head before her eyes flickered back down the hallway. Heidi sighed, "I've been here since he was thirteen," she commented, getting the princess' attention back on her. "I saw him fall the first time that year. Sir Stanley nearly shoved me through a wall trying to get him to his room," she chuckled sadly. "I know it looks awful, and it's certainly not a good time for the palace or Prince Kyle… but he'll make it as he always does," she assured her. "You've spent a lot of time with him. I'm sure you've figured out by now that he's as stubborn as they come."

Kendra gave a small breath of a laugh and a nod. She sighed, moving down the hallway with slow steps, feeling Heidi watching her carefully as she knelt beside the busted pot. Her shoulders sank in guilt, prying the poor, uprooted fern from its spilt home. She cringed at the intricate weaving of life now bereft of sustenance, wondering if she'd taken a life to get Kyle's saved. Maybe he would be that tulip that the redwood now inhabited.

Heidi squatted down beside her, looking curiously at her remorseful face and giving her a small smile. "We can go replant that," she told her, laughing quietly at the princess perking up at the notion. "I can help you," she suggested, standing and offering her hand. Kendra blinked, not used to any elves outside of the Broflovskis being so welcoming. She took her palm and got back to her feet, following as Heidi gestured and led her back out towards the garden. Kendra cradled the wounded plant, cocking her head at a light tingle rushing through her fingertips before looking back up as she stepped into the sunlight once more.

She sighed, giving another small sniffle. Heidi was right. Someone would come get her when it was safe to see Kyle again. She gulped, staring at the sky and saying a silent prayer, hoping that time would come sooner than later.


	24. To Observe, To Exploit

Thin lips curled into a malicious grin, long, sharp nails petting over the sanded maple of the table beneath his hands. The sounds in the vision before him were a consonance of beauty, the frantic nature unfolding as a show just for his viewing pleasure brought a tingle down his spine. Ruby-laden eyes smoldered, a tongue passing over his lips as he locked in on the sweated, fighting form so blissfully unaware of his audience, present or no.

Kyle was gasping for air, reaching and clawing in a desperate attempt to escape what his body was putting him through as servants and guards tried to hold him down against his bed. A sobbing scream echoed within the king's conference room around the faraway viewer, followed by the stifled sniffles of the queen and king watching their son from the background as he unknowingly fought the hold on his limbs. They clutched one another, watching on in horror, as they always did, seeing their child battling a demon they had no chance of confronting themselves. He was fighting a war, and he was the only one on the front lines opposing an armada singing its hateful tune, coming for his head and his alone.

Damien was utterly entranced. He'd missed Kyle's last episode, unaware of their existence until it had already gone and passed and he had heard it mentioned in his weary recovery stages. But now, now he got to see it all for himself, soak in the prince's suffering deep into the marrow of his bones. He could feel an aching tingle rushing through his bloodstream, a numbing and piercing, but _pleasant_ sensation. After all, his little prince was going through _so much worse_ than phantom sympathy pains. He couldn't stop the wide, sparkling grin from sliding further along his face as Kyle arched with another screech, his eyes shooting open and enveloped in that toxic green glow.

" _DOWN, GET DOWN!"_ a guard demanded, everyone hitting their knees and trying to keep their grasp secured around him.

Kyle choked on nothingness, body tremoring and balking as he mumbled nonsense between his frantic cries for help. Thick lashes fluttered, barely-seen pupils hiding behind the ghastly veil flittered around his surroundings, small and unseeing. His audience was nothing but shapes, indistinguishable blobs that he could only tell were holding him down, his frenzied mind _positive_ he was under an attack. A violent shatter rang through the room, Damien turning his vision to the side of Kyle's room, following slowly up a trail of broken glass from his mirror, unable to help a barking laugh at vines climbing his walls suddenly filled with spry, vengeful energy. They wiggled and waved, tearing themselves from the cracks of the palace and slithering about, breaking anything in their path and pushing people out of the way to try to get to their beckoner.

" _CUT THEM!"_ Stan's voice rose with urgency. _"Christophe, get them out!"_ he pointed towards Sheila and Gerald watching the chaos. Christophe huffed, nodding and slipping from his position helping with Kyle and cutting stray vines as he passed through the room, trying not to get caught in their grips.

" _Come on, Your Majesties, you need to get out of 'ere,"_ he urged, gently gripping under their arms and trying to lead them away.

Sheila's eyes widened with panic, never breaking sight of her son writhing and trying to get to him. Christophe sneered, jerking his head and signaling another guard to assist him in getting them both out. The guard murmured his apologies for the treatment before helping shove her around to break the stare and assisting Christophe in guiding them through the room and out of danger as she yelled her protests, begging for her bubbeleh to snap out of it. She shouted helplessly that he needed his mother, that they were to release her and let her be with him to make sure he was safe.

Damien chuckled, leaning his arms down on the table and tapping a shoe behind him against the floor. This was too delightful. Nothing but Hell on Earth for the poor Drow it seemed, and none of them fraught with more turmoil than the poor prince struggling to get his vines towards him as they were hacked away by his guards.

" _Kyle!"_ Stan shouted, standing and hovering over him, heart clenched at those blank, magical eyes. _"Kyle! Stop it!"_ he gripped his face, shaking him a bit. Kyle snarled, breaking an arm free of a distracted hold and trying to hit up at him, riddled mind perceiving nothing more than a threat. Stan grabbed his wrist before it slammed against his head, eyes welling with horrified tears.

Damien's head swiveled to the side, unwillingly breaking focus on the disaster before him as the conference room door opened with a loud _bang_. He smirked as Cartman stepped through, kicking the door shut behind him and cocking his brow at the influx of screams filling his ears. "The fuck did you call me for?" he demanded.

The Olath hummed, curling a bony finger for him to follow. Cartman huffed at his arrogance before another cry from Stan caught his attention, body stiffening at the name so desperately pouring through such a broken tone. His feet suddenly found their speed, practically running to stand beside of Damien and peer into the looking glass. Amber eyes sparkled at the sight of Kyle thrashing, of Stan nearly in tears trying to keep him subdued with other members of the palace. Kyle was trying to scratch at Stan's face, caught between wanting help and wanting him away, dismantled psyche unable to distinguish his purpose for holding him so tightly and yelling nothing more than muffled nonsense to his ears. "Holy shit," Cartman laughed breathlessly, fingers finding the edge of the conference table and curling around it with a death grip. "Did you know it got like this?"

"Not at all. Such a pleasant surprise," Damien purred, smirking as Kyle was finally brought down firmly onto the bed, watching his wrists being shoved down above his head to be tied down. "Aw, they're taking away some of the fun," he gave a small pout.

"This is fucking amazing," Cartman murmured, head spinning with this new information splayed before him. "He's _helpless_."

Damien cocked his brow, watching another round of vines speeding towards the guards and tearing a number away from the prince. "Well, wouldn't go _that_ far," he scoffed. "He can't control his power, so it's going to come out in full. He's _far_ more dangerous now than at any other given time."

Cartman frowned, "He doesn't know what's going on though," he gestured to him fighting so ardently against the bindings snapping down and securing over his wrists and waist.

"Exactly," he said thickly. " _Everything_ is scaring him, so _everything_ is something he'll attack. And he's been spending the last nine days being _weakened_."

Cartman blinked, turning back slowly to the show and feeling his stomach twisting. He could just see little toddling Kyle towering above his felled form, screaming at him for calling him a witch. But with those glowing eyes, the look of total _possession_ flooding over slim features as he wriggled and screamed, _anyone_ would have a hell of a time trying to deny such a term. "So… he's even stronger?"

"Mhm," Damien nodded, tapping a finger against his lips, focusing on the unwitting tears spilling down Kyle's agonized face. "Honestly, I can't _imagine_ what this would be like were he at full capacity. He'd probably destroy the palace in its entirety before someone could even come _near_ stopping him." Though, unaware of the full reach of this phenomenon or not, he couldn't help the excited twisting of his chest. This was _far_ better than he had expected, and it made the future look all the more bright.

The king shuddered, filled with that everlasting hatred all over again. "He's a fucking little monster."

Damien smiled. "But he's _my_ little monster." Cartman gave him a glance, eyes scrunched as he tried to read more into his meaning before Stan's voice broke back through the tension.

" _Ky? Kyle, come on!"_ he begged. _"It's Stan! Please! Please_ _ **stop**_ _!"_

Kyle's head leaned back, a long howl of pain breaking through a dry throat, knowing the voice from the hidden and cowering confines of his subconscious, but unable to place it with anything safe, unable to comprehend why he couldn't move. He couldn't figure out why his powers didn't seem to be working in the way he wanted them to as his vines were torn to shreds by guards surrounding the bed, poised to protect him from himself. He just wanted everything away from him, he wanted to move, he wanted to _breathe_.

Healer Gollum made her way through them, lips pursed determinedly with a bowl and rag in her hands. _"Stanley, hold his head up, he's too dangerous awake!"_ she ordered.

Cartman looked over at her and his expression twisted in disgust, "THE FUCK IS ON HER FACE?!" he screeched, Damien ignoring him and watching her with his arms crossed as she kneeled one leg onto the bed and leaned towards the struggling prince.

" _Shhh_ ," she coaxed, putting a careful hand on the back of his head and helping Stan hold him steady, bringing the bowl to his lips. " _Stanley, get the rag_ ," she demanded, Stan gulping and doing as said, chest wrenching and nodding for her to proceed. He hated this, hated it every time, but it had to be done before Kyle flat-out killed someone or himself. Gollum shoved the bowl between Kyle's lips as they parted for another cry, flooding his mouth with a warm, herbed solution. A good deal spilled from the sides of his lips in his panic before she pulled back and Stan slapped over his mouth with the rag, shoving him backwards onto the bed.

A tear rolled down, dripping off Stan's nose before he shook it off, knowing the risk he was pressing with such a move and pushing the rag against his struggling prince, covering his nose in the process. _"Swallow it, Ky,"_ he pleaded, jaw trembling as Kyle screamed and fought his bindings, suffocating and refusing to let whatever was in his mouth follow its expected course. Gollum slowly rubbed up and down his throat, feeling it spasm beneath her touch and increasing her pressure in the slightest with each ascent towards his chin.

" _Come on, Your Highness,"_ she whispered, letting out a shaking breath as Kyle finally choked and she felt the warmth flooding its way down his trachea. She nodded and Stan pulled back immediately, both watching him coughing and remnants of her mild poison dribbling down his face. Stan gulped, wiping away the residue as they watched his eyes' lights fading and rising with each breath as he fought for consciousness. A collective sigh of relief left the group as the vines and leaves around them finally began to simmer back down and fall limp onto his floor. Kyle's captive hands unclenched, fingers rolling out lifelessly as he was flooded with a tranquil warmth.

His eyes drooped, finally losing their glow entirely and looking to lock gazes with Stan. Stan gulped at the cluelessness ringing through jade irises before they were encased under thick lashes, Kyle's head falling back as Gollum's serum spread throughout his veins and numbed his exhausted body into sleep at last.

The healer sighed, rubbing at her temple and watching the quieted prince as they set him down, looking at the damage around the room and shaking her head. _"He keeps getting stronger,"_ she murmured as guards around them unsteadily got to their feet once again. _"At this rate, in a few years we won't be able to stop him unless we put him into a coma."_

Stan took a deep breath, sitting down and putting his hand over Kyle's forehead, wiping a tear from the prince's lashes. _"The first is always the worst,"_ he reminded her. _"The rest he should be able to hear me."_

She nodded slowly, watching the rasping breaths wracking through Kyle's narrow chest. _"I hope so."_

Cartman shuddered at the complete tonal shift, unable to look away from the unconscious royal. "What the fuck just happened?" he demanded.

"She gave him a poison," Damien shrugged, pushing his hair back out of his face and remaining focused on his little prince. "He'll be unconscious for a while. Should give his body time to acclimate to what it's going through and even it out. Right now, it's nothing but pure chaos, probably eating him from the inside out."

He rolled his eyes, "Then why doesn't he just fucking _die_? Why don't they just kill him if he's so fucking dangerous?"

Damien scoffed, "Yes. The _Broflovskis_ are going to murder their son, Fatboy. Seems plausible. Besides. The powers wouldn't let them do that even if it _was_ considered."

Cartman finally looked over at him, blinking in befuddlement. "Whaddya mean _they_ won't let them?"

"His powers are controlling _him_ when he's like this. And they want to protect the vessel harboring them, no matter _who_ gets in the way," he smacked his lips, smirking at Kyle subtly flinching, the power trying so desperately to fight off the poison and get him back awake and rebelling against his confinement.

The king took a deep, worried breath at the notion, looking between both elves before focusing back on Damien. "All right. I'm sick of this… _ambiguous_ bullshit you've been pulling over me. I want to know _why_ you're so interested in Kahl. Especially if you're saying he can't be killed."

Damien gave him another jeer, not granting him the respect of eye contact as he continued to watch the small twitches of his prize. "Who on _Earth_ said I wanted to kill him?" he questioned. "That'd ruin my plans. I need him alive. I need those _powers of his_ alive."

" **Why**?!" he bellowed, finally getting the elf's attention slowly drawn towards him. He repressed a shiver at those cold irises and the small smirk quirking on the edge of his lips.

Damien let the question echo out around them before giving a small chuckle. "Do you know the story of the Ssussun?"

"The _what_?"

He rolled his eyes, "The _light_ elves. Those not of _my_ kind," he drawled, pointing firmly at Kyle's limp body. He turned his attention back to him, feeling Cartman watching and waiting for further elaboration as he propped his chin in his palm. "Fascinating, honestly. They have the magic of life. The world was said to be created entirely by one powerful Ssussun, filling it with light. Then an Olath spawned from the shadow of a sacred tree and established the night. But even then, their powers were not equal. The Ssussun _always_ held just a _shred_ more power than the Olath."

Cartman's brow furrowed. "That you saying that Kahl is stronger than you?"

He smirked, "Yes. But, only him to my knowledge. Not the others of his kind. They practice their magics, sure, but none of them strive to master all they can do. Even little prince never did any such thing. He was _born_ with this power, but he may never be able to control it. He won't know how to use it against me properly without losing his handle."

"Why risk getting yourself killed over this?"

He snorted, "I have my reason and my methods. Extortion is a powerful thing, you of all people should know considering Kenneth," he cocked his brow. "I need a Ssussun for what I want to do."

"Why?" he repeated, tired of this game already.

"Something _you_ can't understand. You're getting what I promised you, Fatboy. That should satisfy your curiosity _more_ than enough."

Cartman leaned against the table, narrowing his eyes dangerously at the man beside him looking far too nonchalant. "You know, I put a _lot_ on the line for you. I have a _spy_ over in Larnion for _your_ mission. If they catch him, I'm going to be on the cusp of war with those demons."

"You think so lowly of elves," he smirked, standing up straight and cracking his neck, looking at Kyle again before finally locking eyes with the king below him. "The Drow are not so easily coaxed into war. They want little to do with such a mess, know that their people _vehemently_ oppose it, no matter _how much_ they despise your filthy race."

"Oh, _I'm_ the filthy one?" he snarled. "Rich coming from a fucking creature who lives in _the woods_."

He shrugged, "It's where we thrive. Olath thrive in darkness, Ssussun thrive in light. Humans thrive _nowhere._ You just take up whatever space you happen to find, settling down and calling yourselves one with the land when you know _nothing_ of the ground you plod your bulbous feet upon. The world is more than money and crowns, but a human can _never_ understand that." He gestured back towards his vision, Cartman's infuriated gaze following his pointing to Stan staring brokenheartedly at his suffering prince. "Even little prince's lovesick guard dog can never understand. He thinks he knows little prince better than anyone, but he's _wrong_. He can never know him as well as _I_ do, because _we_ share what mortals _cannot_."

"A despicable lineage?" he sneered.

" _True_ power," he corrected with a smug grin. "You have the power of your title, sure. But little prince and I could bring the world to its knees with more than just claiming to be a leader with fancy names that mean nothing in the grand scheme, but with _force_."

Cartman rolled his eyes, "Kahl is a fucking prince, keep in mind, so he has that advantage. And besides, that's what my army is for."

"Yes, but _he_ doesn't consider his crown to be his only asset like _some_ royals I know. And an army doesn't stand a chance when the _earth itself_ is set to destroy it," he hissed, eyes sparking with thrill. "You can slay all the humans and elves you want, but in the end, the earth will _always_ be what feasts on your rotting corpse. Those who can control _that_ , control the universe."

The king straightened, tone dropping dangerously, "That a threat?"

"You'd _know_ if it was a threat," he scoffed. "Remember, you're nothing more than a _shortcut_ in my plans. If I didn't find Kenneth's progress to be so… _enthralling_ , I would have snapped your neck long ago and just gone for it on my own."

Cartman scowled, fighting off the frightened palpitations of his heart. He knew Damien could do it, knew that any of these magical _demons_ could murder him without a second thought. Maybe feast on his fresh corpse to gain more power, or perhaps that was merely one of the rumors that had been circling since his youth. It was hard to tell anymore. His mother never told him stories of vengeful elves, but never proclaimed them to be of a loving, kind nature either. All she had told him was _'making an effort is what counts, Poopsykins'_. However, she'd never truly specified _what_ said effort was supposed to be towards. Knowing her character and how generously she held her reign, it was more than likely a hint at pursuing a friendship, but Cartman had grown around his guards more than herself. He'd listened to elders telling stories of the War, how they'd watched their brethren dragged off and away by the _wretched_ pointed-ear bastards. They'd made the Earth itself split and dragged men into a chasm of death before sealing it back and standing atop the land, laughing as they could hear the muffled, asphyxiating cries below their feet.

He'd be damned if he'd let _that_ come to fruition yet again.

And yet, he could still not read Damien's motives. He claimed to not care about the fate of the humans _or_ the elves, just knew what he wanted and was going for it with vigor. There only seemed to be _one_ fate he so much as gave a second glance. And it was a glance Eric could not quite understand, how it burned lowly like candlelight on its last legs, how it spoke with intensity like a deadly gale. It screamed of ownership, of secrecy, of giving every last speck of energy he had until he had that life force held under his palm, tied down like he was already in a land so far away. But it seemed Damien didn't want to keep what little they had seen under control, he wanted it _released_.

Cartman gulped, rolling his shoulders back and taking a long breath, "So, Kinny is still doing what needs done?"

"More than I would've imagined he could pull off. He's quite the charmer," he smirked. "But he's not important, at least not right now, not with little prince so out of his element. Once he recovers, he'll probably still be tired and weak, and Kenneth can do even more to get inside his mind."

He cocked his brow, "Why not go for Kahl now or when the sickness stops? Seems like that'd be easier for all of us."

"Because I don't have the information I _need_ yet," he scoffed. "And besides, watching them play their game is fun in of itself. Makes him more vulnerable," Damien chuckled. "The more it's prolonged, the more hurt he gets, the less control he has, and the easier it is for me to get what I need from him."

Cartman nodded slowly, looking back at the vision and clicking his tongue. Made sense, he supposed. Even without knowing the specifics, that just seemed to be sound logic for any variation of war, whether it be against an entire country or just one frail elf. "Just hope you know what you're doing," he grumbled.

Damien smirked, leaning back down on the table and watching Kyle panting and flinching as cooled rags were pressed around his neck and face, looking utterly destroyed already and ripe for the taking. He'd needed to see this, to make sure that his target held the power that was foretold. Everything about his scheme weighed on just how much Kyle's body could withstand, and his tiny glimpse into the untapped potential more than told him all he needed to know. "So little faith in me, _Your Majesty_ ," he drawled, feeling that glare back on Cartman's face for the disrespect, stomach twisting with excitement at a twitch of Kyle's fingers. "Everything is going _precisely_ as it should."


	25. The Replacement

It took quite a bit for someone to make Kendra _truly_ angry. Usually a threat towards someone she cared about was the only thing that could push her over that emotional edge. But here she was, stewing in fury for the second day in a row, sitting at one of the dining tables and bitterly tapping her finger against it, glaring down at her vegetable soup.

She couldn't believe what the guards were pulling, keeping her _completely_ out of the loop as to Kyle's condition. His parents and brother had been up three times since their initial trip, but not Kendra, it wasn't even considered. Prejudice seemed to be the order of the day. The guards didn't want this new _human_ to cross the threshold of Kyle's room. Because she might be a threat to the prince's safety, pulling out some bullshit excuse that perhaps humans carried an illness that he would be completely vulnerable to.

She guessed that Prince Ike and Stan must have preposterously strong immune systems then if they trusted _them_ so much.

The king and queen had only told her that he wasn't holding up that well, seemed to be in more pain than his usual bouts. Sheila could barely hold herself together and maintain that air of dignity Kendra so respected from her. And Gerald and Ike were just quiet, staring off into nothingness and murmuring reassurances to all of them that maybe it was just stronger because of aging. That maybe it'd finally hit its peak and would stop forever after this one. Empty promises to a melancholic audience.

No one was kidding when they told her the air of the palace would be completely shifted during this time. Everyone was quiet, most kept their heads down. The sanctuary was almost always populated with servants and townspeople coming in from the outer doors, linking hands and praying, most stopping to see their sovereigns to give them identical, scripted words of comfort. Kendra could only think of it as pre-mourning, like they collectively gathered and made the decision to begin so that if they _did_ lose him, at least they had a head start on the process.

She shook her head, shoving her soup away and leaning her chin down atop folded arms. She hated this. She hated being so fucking kept away from him. The last two days had been only filled with chatter from Butters and Heidi, who'd begun an unofficial run as her very first personal handmaiden per Sheila's choked suggestion. _'Why bother with her,'_ Kendra thought bitterly. _'If Kyle… dies… then I just go back to Kupa Keep…'_ she sighed, eyes burning as she traced her gaze along the woodgrain patterns of the table. It just wasn't fair. The _one_ elf in the whole damn kingdom who looked at her like an equal was down and out, and she was only allowed snippets of updates. She just wanted to see him, to hear him. She wanted the simplest of things, and even as royalty, she was being denied.

But _Stan_ got to be up there. _That_ human got to fucking be with him and help him through this mess. _Stan_ got every fucking thing he wanted when it came to Kyle. Because apparently, they were just _so_ goddamn close. Her fists clenched, the tight fabric of her gloves straining with the pressure. The thought made her blood _boil_. It just wasn't fucking _fair_ that he was given every advantage that she wasn't. Being with him longer or not, she was Kyle's goddamn _fiancé._ He shouldn't be _allowed_ to have such a higher ranking than herself in this situation.

"Your Highness, are you all right?" a soft voice breeched.

She glanced over to see Heidi sitting next to her, cocking her head in concern. Kendra just gave a lackluster shrug, a small sniffle escaping before she could stop it.

Heidi's face fell pitiably. "I know it's hard," she coaxed, folding her hands in her lap. "It's not fair that they're keeping you out. But I'm sure that they have a good reason. Prince Kyle may be dangerous to your safety," she winced.

Kendra frowned deeper, leaning upright and snagging her paper and quill from in front of a sympathetic Butters on her other side. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet throughout her pouting ordeal, probably finally figuring out that patting her shoulder and going 'there there' wasn't doing anything but making her angrier. She shook her head as she scribed, script losing its typical elegance in the haste of bubbling emotions. She huffed out a breath, shoving the paper over in front of Heidi.

' _I don't care. I should be allowed to see him. This is just because his ranger doesn't like me. I_ know _he's behind this.'_

Heidi's eyes flickered back up to meet Kendra's, a gulp receding down her throat. She couldn't exactly tell her that her assumption was unfounded. Not a soul in the palace didn't know of Stan's disdain towards the princess. How he glared, how he tried keeping Kyle away from her, how he constantly made claims that something was wrong with her and she was a danger more than anything. It put everyone in quite a difficult position, knowing that Kendra was royalty and held a higher standing than themselves… But Stan was Kyle's right-hand man. His authority, personally rather than monarchically, stood above her own prowess over the people. No one knew who to follow closer, creating a strange rift between the servants that Heidi had found herself pondering all the near-two months that Kendra had been within their kingdom.

She still didn't know how, but Kendra had won her over. She could only figure it was from seeing how she'd charmed the royal family already. If they respected her, then she figured that she should do the same. But she seemed to be almost alone on that ship, everyone else merely tolerating the human's presence, staring at Heidi strangely for the last two days after she'd told them her new assignment. Some gave her sympathetic pats, some told her 'good, maybe you can learn more about her and we can know just what it is we're working with without it being all rumors'. Some glared, especially those among the elders. They told her she was too close, that it was bad enough the prince was being 'poisoned' by Kendra's company, they didn't need to lose more elves to her 'fiendish ways'.

But, so far, she'd found their spiteful tones to be beyond speculative. All she'd seen for two days was pure misery on that silent face, how she wanted so _badly_ to know of Kyle's condition at all times and how _frustrated_ she was getting with no answers being presented. It was touching, those stories she'd heard in her youth of humans being as cold and impassive as stone were being swept away in the ebbing tide of wonder that seemed to follow the princess with every move she made. It was fascinating, but terrifying. She couldn't help but question just how much of her childhood had been concocted within these lies, how many cultures she'd blindly hated just because of folklore.

For now, she supposed, it didn't matter. She found enough proof to the contrary. She had a living, breathing human staring at her for a response, and those light blue eyes were _anything_ but emotionless. They were crawling with bloodshot worry, a layer of water she seemed to be desperately holding back to keep herself composed enough to wade through this tumultuous time.

Heidi sighed, nodding subtly. "I can't say you're wrong," she finally answered. "Sir Stanley is…" she trailed off, searching for an appropriate phrase.

"A jackass," Craig input from beside Butters, taking a long sip of coffee as the other three stared at him. "Thinks he owns the prince."

"Now, now that ain't true I don't think," Butters pouted, looking over at the elf. "Heidi, that ain't true, right?"

"Own? …No," she said cautiously. "But… he is… possessive. In that he just really doesn't want the prince to be hurt on his watch. Or ever," she shrugged. "He's very dedicated to his duties. As he should be."

Craig rolled his eyes, setting down his cup and locking stares with her. "Dedicated and _obsessive_ are two different things. He isn't just devoted to the family. If he had it his way, the prince wouldn't ever be allowed to request he leave him alone for _any_ activity. I saw him the other week getting _shoved_ out of the library by the prince because he couldn't concentrate with him breathing down his neck. Marsh needs to learn his guarding boundaries."

Kendra grabbed her paper, looking down and writing as Heidi retorted, "Listen, I don't know much of life in Kupa Keep, and I know little of the princess as of yet," she gestured to Kendra who continued her mission. "But I can only _assume_ that she isn't nearly as sickly as Prince Kyle. Have you ever nearly lost her before?"

Butters bit his lip and shook his head, "No, Ma'am, we haven't. Near perfect health, huh, Princess?" Kendra nodded, keeping her eyes focused down.

"Then you don't understand," she said quietly. "Every single member of this _kingdom_ wants to protect him from whatever is happening to him. How would you feel if the dependency of _every_ subject was thrown onto you, being the _one_ person close enough to always be on the front lines for him? Sir Stanley was trained to handle outside forces, but he can't protect the prince from himself, so he feels like he's failing. It would kill anyone to be in that position, especially with their friendship," she winced. "I agree that he is _far_ too harsh on Princess Kendra, but he is _not_ a bad person."

"Never said that," Craig held up a defensive hand. "I said he needs to learn his place. Kendra comes first in the prince's life now. He can't handle the fact that he's been demoted to second runner."

Butters scratched up by his ear, "I-I think Stan means well. He just… well he just ain't very good at trustin' anyone with Prince Kyle. I betcha he has trouble even with his own family sometimes."

"Knowing him? Probably," Craig scoffed, taking another sip of his drink. "And, I'm sorry, the prince is sickly, but he's not fucking _glass_. He looks like he could fuck you up good if you got him angry enough."

Heidi chuckled, "You have no idea. I saw him and another Drow prince get into it once when he was… I believe sixteen," she shrugged. "He was _so_ insulting to the Broflovskis and Larnion, calling us all lower-class and 'full of ourselves' for claiming to still be the Elven capital, as though it weren't _true_ ," she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Prince Kyle held it in for a good two days before he just pummeled him. If Sir Stanley and Sir Clyde hadn't pulled him off, I don't think that prince would have made it to head back home," she laughed. "Surprisingly, our trades with that land have been amazing since then. Apparently, the other prince's father was tired of his son being like that as well. Told Prince Kyle he would be known forever in their land as 'the Brawling King' when he took the throne."

Craig shrugged, "See? Marsh is overreacting. Kyle can handle himself. Doesn't need this _ridiculous_ level of martyrdom."

Kendra sighed, shaking her head before handing Heidi her completed note, with the inscription _'Read aloud please. Quietly, though.'_ Heidi looked at her a moment, seeing the plea in her eyes and nodding, leaning in towards the two across the table. " _'I'm done waiting around. I'm getting in to see him. Stanley shouldn't be allowed to make that call, but I need your help. If Kyle is so dangerous, then Craig can go up with me, that's fine. But Heidi and Butters, I need you two to get the guard away from Kyle's door so I can get past. Either that or I'm smashing something over the guard's head. You make the call.'_ "

The three of them looked at her and her determined face, Heidi unable to help a small smile. "You really want to check on him, don't you?" Kendra nodded briskly, clasping her hands together and shaking them in front of her. Heidi shrugged, seeing the waiting expressions of the boys across from her and smiling. "Well. I don't think we can deny the request of royalty. Can we?"

* * *

"Back up, Princess," Craig muttered, pulling her further back from staring blatantly around the corridor corner and rolling his eyes. "For someone who can't make noise, you're not exactly _stealthy_."

Kendra glared at him, flipping him off and getting a rare smirk out of the rogue as they peered around the edge of the wall, watching Heidi and Butters walking down towards a very bored guard standing outside Kyle's bedroom door. A calling agent, Kendra had been told. Someone to shout a code word for Stan to hear and get the prince hidden and safe should some outside attack occur.

Heidi made way to the guard, face dropped with worry as she stared at him. "Sir, there's a problem," she said urgently, getting his attention locked down on her. "Myself and this paladin saw someone suspicious lingering around the eastern wall," she pointed down the way. "Everyone else is patrolling the kingdom. Can you please come see? The princess herself requested it, for the prince's safety," she added, letting her lip wobble in the slightest.

The guard stood up straighter, brow cocking. "What exactly did you see?"

"A-a figure in a cloak!" Butters answered, rubbing his knuckles together nervously. "Was just pacin' up and down… s-seemed like he was lookin' for a higher window. And well… if he finds the prince's window…"

"Shit," he said angrily, turning towards the stairs.

Heidi grasped his arm, "Don't say anything yet," she begged. "If it _isn't_ something and the prince is rushed around trying to get hidden, we could exacerbate his illness for no reason! Myself or the paladin will run back here to inform Sir Stanley if there _is_ reason to hide him, we're very fast."

"The fastest," Butters echoed firmly with a curt nod. "Can we show ya where he was?"

The guard looked between them and the door before nodding back. "Yeah. Let's hurry," he urged, gesturing for them to lead the way. They did so with gusto, the three of them speed walking down the hallway.

Kendra and Craig watched them intensively until they rounded another corner before jolting out of their spot and heading to Kyle's door. "Be quiet about it, don't startle Marsh," Craig warned as soon as her hand hit the door. Kendra blinked over at him and he shrugged. "If he hears you _runnin'_ up the steps, Heidi's right, he'd move to go to hide Kyle and risk fucking him up more. So be _subtle_."

Kendra sighed, but nodded. He had a point.

She glanced around for passersby before genially pulling open the door, looking up the staircase to the upper level and gulping. She stepped inside, Craig slipping in behind and silently closing the door as she began her ascension. Her eyes hit one of the torches, glowing with a strange ethereal light and cocking her head. The glow was eerie, reminded her far too much of how Kyle's eyes were enveloped in the same ghastly appearance. She swallowed, a shudder ricocheting down her spine as she lifted her skirt and continued making her way up towards the landing, struggling to make her heavy heels keep silent by staying on her toes. She tongued over her lips, approaching the daylight streaming through Kyle's bedroom, keeping her head low as she hit the top of the staircase.

Craig stepped up beside of her, both slowly lifting their heads up to peer over the floor level, finding themselves straight across from Kyle's bed with Stan sitting on the side, staring down at the prince and wiping down his face with a rag.

Kendra's heart fell into her toes, seeing thick bindings wrapped around his wrists and kept over his head. Kyle was beyond pale, face wet with sweat and tears. Even from the distance, she could see him shivering, hear his teeth clattering and the rasped difficulty of his breathing.

"It's okay, Ky," Stan said gently at a long-winded whine from the body beneath him. "I'm right here, Dude."

Kyle's eyes opened, completely bleared out, seeing nothing but a fuzzed figure before him, just barely able to recognize that voice. "St-tan," he whispered, flinching violently. "Un… un… a-arms…" he stammered, trying to pull his hands down, his heart racing in a befuddled panic.

Stan sighed to himself, shaking his head. Every ten minutes, like clockwork. Kyle would pass out and wake back up, forgetting he'd already asked to be untied and fighting until he finally fell back asleep. "I can't, Ky," he winced, softly pressing Kyle's struggling arms back onto the bed. His eyes drifted to the rawness beneath the binding, hating it with every fiber of his being. "You'll hurt yourself," he said, more for himself than Kyle, to remind him that this amount of suffering was _necessary_. "I'm sorry," his voice cracked and he forced it back down.

Tears welled in Kyle's blinded eyes, breath staggering. _"H-help,"_ he begged.

Kendra's own eyes filled, a hand slowly going over her covered mouth, just _hearing_ every ounce of agony he was suffering through. She could feel it stabbing into her as it circulated the air around them, vicious pinpricks assaulting her nerves; and she wished she was truly taking it on for herself so he could just have a few moments of escape from this.

Stan sniffled before coughing himself back into a more stable position, not wanting to further the issue. "I _am_ helping you," he promised, reaching up and cupping Kyle's face in his hands, leaning over him.

Kendra's hand dropped from her mouth, eyes slowly widening and jaw falling agape in the slightest at what was happening in front of her, feeling a hefty nausea swelling in her throat.

Craig shook his head, mouthing an irritated, _'Don't do it. Don't you_ _ **fucking**_ _do it.'_

Stan leaned his forehead down atop Kyle's own, eyes scrunching tightly and thumbs stroking over thin cheekbones. Kyle just whimpered, continuing to slur out pleas for his help, not comprehending what was happening above him, only knowing that Stan was holding his head but he wasn't being what he _needed_. "Shhhh," Stan pleaded as he began to cough out confused sobs. "I got you, Kyle. I'm right here," he promised, pressing down and sealing their lips against one another's.

The world may as well have dropped from Kendra's knelt form, entire body stiffening, heartbeat deafening as she watched the show before her. Craig just groaned under his breath, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb and shaking his head.

Idiot. What a fucking _idiot_.

He glanced over at the princess, wincing at the utter shock plastered over her half-veiled face. She gulped, hands quaking. It made sense.

It all made _so much fucking sense._

_How did she not_ _**see** _ _this?!_

Stan pulled back with a shaking breath, pecking him again before redirecting and planting his lips against Kyle's forehead, resting there and closing his eyes to Kyle's continued sniveling. Kendra slowly pivoted, turning away and sitting herself down on the step below the floor-level view, staring blankly at the staircase.

This hurt. This hurt a _lot_ more than she would have expected.

A guilt gnawed away at her chest. Was she getting between them? Little time as she'd known Stan, she knew his type. Knew that he wouldn't be one for just taking advantage of someone in such a compromised situation. He'd done this before, with Kyle's consent. And as easily as he'd fallen against him, as little hesitation as he'd had… She could only assume that it was _often_. She silenced an attempted sniffle, eyes burning and arms crossing over, hands rubbing up and down the muscles as she shrank into herself. God, she was interfering with a fucking _hidden affair_.

It was no _wonder_ Stan hated her so goddamn much. She would hate him, too if the roles were reversed. She was taking away someone he cared about, she was breaking between who knew _how long_ of an ongoing relationship. She felt so remorseful, felt so _sick and confused._

But, mostly… Kendra hurt. She really thought there was _something_ between herself and Kyle. But, apparently not. No, his feelings were apparently for his ranger, for his _secret_. He'd kissed her back, and she really fucking thought it meant they were a step towards something more. But now she just wondered if he was doing it out of _political obligation_. Kendra shuddered, hating herself. Hating Stan. Hating Cartman for setting up something _else_ to be taken away from her. She couldn't keep pursuing him after this, she'd feel so _awful_ if she was getting between the prince and his happiness.

She looked up towards the ceiling, unwitting tears rolling down her temples. This was it. She was there to be a figurehead, she was there to sit off prettily to the side while Kyle went off to sleep with his ranger and she just waved to the people. She felt so fucking _stupid_.

Kendra jerked at a piece of paper hitting her arm, seeing Craig sitting around with her holding it to her with a stern expression. She quietly sniffled, very carefully unfolding it and wiping away the remaining water lingering in her eyes. _'Wrote this before we left the dining hall, I was wondering if this kind of thing would happen knowing him. Marsh is a fucking idiot. He loves the prince, but it is_ not _the same both ways. I've seen the prince pushing away from him to get to you. There's a reason he's jealous of you. Don't think about it too much. Marsh will eventually come to his senses. Until then, let the damn prince decide what he's doing, don't just_ assume _you're his beard or whatever.'_

Kendra slowly looked over at him, cocking her head a bit with eyes shining with the need for confirmation, to know that he was positive about what he'd seen. He sighed irritably but nodded. Kendra smiled gratefully, looking back down at the note and mindlessly gripping Craig's hand. Craig looked down at her hold before just rolling his eyes and accepting it, propping his cheek up in his free hand.

She felt so ridiculously relieved, almost exhausted from flying between emotions like she did. But Craig wouldn't lie to her, he had never done so. And he _certainly_ didn't dance around the truth to spare someone's feelings, no matter who he was addressing. She couldn't help but smile, eyes lingering on one line.

' _I've seen the prince pushing away from him to get to you.'_

If that didn't mean _something_ , then she didn't know what would. Maybe there was a chance things could work out. Maybe he was right, and Stan would calm down and accept whatever would come along for Kyle and Kendra. Maybe. She didn't know. Nor did she care in this particular moment. What mattered to her was she wasn't nothing but a distraction and that, perhaps, she hadn't been led straight into the lion's den yet again.

They sat together, holding hands to Kendra's discretion for a few minutes before a loud cry made them both jerk and twist back around on the stairs to see Kyle thrashing.

"Uh oh," Craig breathed under the sound of the prince's pain.

Stan gritted his teeth, trying to plant Kyle in place so he didn't dislocate his damn shoulder like he had on more than one occasion over the years. "Kyle! Kyle, come on! It's okay, take a deep breath!" he begged.

Kyle's mouth dropped open, neck arching up with a scream. Kendra gasped at that glow flooding his eyes again.

Stan looked up with a panicked expression, attention torn to vines that Kyle hadn't gotten to yet as they wedged out of the wall and began slithering their way towards the floor.

"What the _fuck_ ," Craig whispered, automatically moving to block Kendra. Their eyes widened with horror at a potted set of long-stemmed clovers on his desk seeming to sway with no wind. They pulled in unison towards Kyle, all three of them flinching as a violent reach sent the clay falling to the ground with a vicious _crack_. Kendra grabbed Craig's shoulder, both stiffening at the _bizarre_ sight before them as clover roots began to wriggle and grow without their sustenance, seeming to _breathe_ in time with Kyle's panting, agonized body.

"KYLE, WAKE UP!" Stan pleaded, trying to both get through to the unaware prince and fumble getting his sword out of his sheath propped up against the bed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he spat. He wasn't expecting another fit so fucking soon. It'd only been two hours since the last, they usually had a longer dormant period than this. These rare surprise ones were few and far between, but they were _beyond_ dangerous for one person to handle alone. Stan growled, finally freeing his blade and pointing it towards the approaching roots crawling towards him like insects, trying to keep Kyle held down. He hissed, beginning to hack away at fibers coming in too close, struggling with the limited reach and his overwhelming worry.

Kendra looked to the other side of the room as movement caught her eye, gasping at a set of vines creeping their way towards Stan from the back. She shook Craig and pointed, both sharing a quick look that spelled their rapid argument at once. _'I'm not just sitting back here waiting for you to save him.'_

' _I know, you stubborn moron. Be careful.'_

They both hopped out of their hiding place, Stan's head whirling around at the movement and blinking in shock. "Dude! Craig, get the goddamn princess out-" he stopped as his sword was wrapped around, the plant attempting to rip it from his grasp and losing filaments in the process, undeterred. He hissed, finally taking his hand off Kyle to put both on the hilt, Kyle arching up in full without the weight.

Kendra narrowed her eyes, hiking her dress and heels clacking over the floorboards as she hopped over a set of branches worming across the floor, landing awkwardly and stumbling down. She barely crawled back onto her feet in time to evade a grab around the ankle while Craig snagged his own sword from its hold, trying to destroy the wooded creatures before they could grasp him.

Stan gritted his teeth, finally tearing his sword back into his own hands and slicing off clover heads as they sprawled about like beams of light. "Kendra, get _out,_ it's dangerous!" he bit through another downward swing. "Goddammit!" he shouted.

Kendra ignored him, finally making it around the other side of the bed past a plethora of spilt soil and hovering over Kyle's crying form. Her own breath turned shallow, diving down to sit beside him and cup his head in her hands, shaking him and turning his face towards her own. She didn't know what else to do, letting her fingers trail up through his hair and petting through sweated curls, absolutely terrified of those dead, glowing eyes locked on her. But her panic didn't matter, nothing mattered but getting Kyle through this.

Kyle jerked back, a snap of consciousness slamming into him at a recognized scent managing to worm its way down to his compromised lungs. Fear was replaced with bewilderment, unable to pinpoint how or why every ounce of him was overtaken with such a strange familiarity. Gentle fingers continued to stroke him down, his jaw tremoring as he fought for a clearer picture. He wanted whatever this was, wanted back out to know what was happening. His head lolled, body tensing as he rode a wave of pain, of bitterness trying to shove him back down into his vessel state. Eyes scrunching shut, he let out another sob and the petting elongated, stretching from his forehead to the back of his skull and repeating, never wavering through his subdued balking.

He gasped, seeming to remember just then how to breathe and his eyes flew back open. Kendra leaned further over him, staring down at his face and shaking with relief as the glow began to fade in and out in sporadic bursts.

Stan and Craig blinked, watching their rooted adversaries beginning to tremor and stop their pursuit, individual leaves falling limp with pathetic attempts to keep crawling onwards. Stan stiffened, head slowly turning to see Kyle staring up at Kendra, head done thrashing, trying to come back down to see just who it was who had a hold on him. "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!" he spat, teeth gritting and sword falling to the ground with a deep _clang_ as he lost his grip, Kendra taking no notice of him as she remained focused on the prince.

Craig looked between the three of them, checking his vine's movement before making way and walking towards Stan, pulling him back from the bed. _"Ain't it great that she can do that for him? Help him? Keep him from hurting?"_ he whispered into his ear, shaking him. " _If I were you, I'd be pretty fucking grateful right now."_

Stan turned and bared his teeth, Craig reading days' worth of lost sleep in bloodshot eyes but staying firm. They stared one another down until a quiet, pained moan cracked through the air and their attention went back to the bed.

Kyle coughed, recovering slowly, each time his eyelids fell growing harder and harder to pry back open once again. His jaw trembled, a form taking shape above him that he couldn't quite place just yet, but it felt _safe_. With each blink, his vision reformed, piece by piece of the figure hovering over him. He let out a shaking breath as he vaguely recognized blonde hair dripping towards him and bright, _stunning_ blue eyes. He gulped, fingers twitching as the glow finally left his stare for good. His brow creased, a name screamed in his mind and tongue rolling as he tried to remember how to speak. _"…K-Ken…dra?"_ he breathed out.

She gasped, nodding frantically and leaning down, putting their foreheads together. Stan took another step back, head turning away. He wanted to just puke, just lose it all over Kyle's goddamn floor. He couldn't believe this. Couldn't fucking _believe this._

Kyle continued staring at her, locked in double vision of her eyes and a shiver rolling down his aching spine. He couldn't place it, couldn't even remember _who she truly was_. But the name, the eyes, the _smell_. It felt right. She was something he could _see_ , something he _wanted_ , something he knew _wouldn't hurt him_. He flinched at another angry pulse from his chest, a constant burn beginning to form and spread throughout his limbs. It hurt, hurt like _mad_.

But he barely took notice. Instead, he found himself focused on the scent of daffodils.

Kendra pulled back in the slightest, his eyes uncrossing as she stroked his cheekbones, wishing with all her fucking heart the other two were out of the room. Wishing that she could talk to him, reassure him, promise him that she wasn't fucking _moving_ from his side. Not after seeing that, she couldn't bear to just be downstairs with the knowledge of what he was going through. They'd have to goddamn _drag_ her out of here.

Kyle's lips quivered, Kendra cocking her head as words spilled from his dazed form. _"…D-dos gow… saph… N-Nalia,"_ he murmured. She narrowed his eyes. He was speaking goddamn gibberish. They just stared at one another until Kyle finally lost his fight to stay awake, eyes falling closed and his head dropping limply to the side.

She blinked, not moving until she knew for damn sure he was breathing. She sighed with relief at his chest continuing to rise and fall, pulling her hands back and folding them in her lap, continuing to stare down at him.

Craig crossed his arms, looking at Stan's frustrated expression with a raised brow. "That was Elvish," he said.

Kendra looked over at the two of them, seeing Stan cringe a bit to himself. "How would you know?" he asked steadily, gaze never leaving Kyle. "You don't speak it."

"No, but I've heard it plenty enough in my time," he scoffed. "Raided a few elves back when I was stealin'… What'd he say?"

Stan took a deep breath, looking at last up to Kendra watching him skeptically, as though just waiting for him to launch forward and bash her face in. He certainly couldn't say the thought wasn't crossing his mind. "He said… he said you smell like Nalia," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Kendra and Craig looked at each other for a moment. "Uh. And what the fuck is a Nalia?" Craig rolled his hand in front of him.

"…One of the spirits the Drow celebrate," he shrugged. "I don't know much about her," he lied, looking down at the destroyed clovers and taking a deep, angry breath. He knew _too_ much about her. And Kyle making such a comparison just made him _sick_.

Kendra let out a disbelieving breath. For someone claiming to be 'so well versed' in elven ways, she _highly_ doubted he was being truthful. But… that didn't matter. She looked at Craig, making a writing motion and he nodded curtly, heading to Kyle's desk while Stan continued staring at the ground.

His mind was swimming, unable to comprehend what had just happened. How did she _do that_? It usually took him a good three to five minutes to talk Kyle back down towards regaining control. She got it nearly _instantly_. Maybe it was from Kyle's confusion hearing another voice other than his own. Or maybe she just had coincidental timing… Or…

He groaned under his breath. No. No neither of those were right. Kyle recognized her _far_ too easily for either one. His heart was being ripped fiber by fiber from its arteries, barely able to blink, let alone anything else. He just couldn't believe this. Barely over a month and a half. And this girl had destroyed _everything_ that made him valuable to Kyle. The only thing he was over her for now was he knew how to swing a sword and get him out of danger alive and she didn't. And he'd gotten to touch him in ways she could only dream of.

Or at least for a few months. But she would have _that_ to her name soon enough as well.

This was it, this was where he was shoved down into place. Where duty finally took over the spot he'd earned, where he was forced to look at Kyle as nothing more than his protected. Like he was supposed to be doing since the very fucking beginning, and he couldn't even get that right.

Stan flinched, paper being shoved under his nose by Craig. He sighed, seizing the script and feeling his insides curdling. _'Please, get me a comfortable chair or something if you would. And please tell Heidi to get me a few books. I'm not leaving him again.'_

He raised his eyes, meeting the unwavering stare of the princess and letting a furious breath rack through him. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said lowly. "This could have been a _fluke_. Kyle would never forg-" he stopped as Craig snatched the paper and turned it over, shoving it back into his hands.

' _If Kyle hurts me, then he hurts me. I would never hold it against him. Now, please help me with what I asked. It's a royal order,_ Ranger. _'_

Stan looked back up at her, now sitting primly, posture alone screaming the reminder that she held the cards here. He was just the _worker_. He threw the paper back at Craig, shaking his head subtly. "Fine," he said curtly, turning on his heel and practically storming his way away and down the staircase.

Craig snorted, looking back at her and nodding. "I'm impressed. Finally remembering your place here. I'm sure he would approve."

Kendra smirked, looking back down at the passed-out prince, stroking his bangs back and sighing wistfully. She didn't know how he'd react to her treating Stan like a servant, but she didn't care. She leaned down, pressing their foreheads together and taking a deep breath. If Kyle was in the habit of shoving people away to get to her… She smiled. Then she was _more_ than happy to return the favor.


	26. Nalia and The Creator

Foreign trade was just too goddamn complicated.

Kendra had sat in on many a meeting in Kupa Keep, watching the king spewing off numbers and assets to be traded. She had believed that if _he_ could pull it off, that any _child_ could. But, perhaps that was a tad hasty of an assumption. Sometimes she had to remind herself that Cartman had been bred in one of the most powerful kingdoms in the land, had been brought up in an ever-evolving industrializing world. He had to stay on top of these things, and had done so with a ruthless hand, knowing that one slip could spell disaster between allies.

Kendra gulped, narrowing her eyes at the text in front of her, trying to decipher the strange relationship of prices and produce between the Larnions and Canadian Drow. She didn't exactly have a _conversion_ chart on hand, the difference of currency nothing short of _maddening_ as she tried to understand why the hell the Canadians seemed to pay so much more for their produce than those south of the border. Or perhaps it was an equal amount, she had no idea. Terms like _inflation_ and _currency exchange_ and the overall concept of elven economics were a mystery to her, knowing that she was _lucky_ to have ended up with Kyle as a link to the elves, anyone less may not have been able to explain anything to her well enough for it to latch.

She sighed through her nose, shifting back in her padded chair and glancing over to the pale, trembling prince beside of her, heart aching. It'd been a good fifteen hours with no sign of a following attack, but he always seemed to be on that _verge_. Kendra had made the executive decision to unbind his arms with the promise that they'd be returned to the bands should he have another spell. She glanced down to thin wrists atop his quilt, wincing at the stark pink marks still left and the minute tears from his struggles. Gollum had pasted on a thick layer of herbs to keep them from infection, but it didn't make the reality fade away any faster.

Sporting a small, sad smile, she moved a gloved hand to slide under Kyle's, loosely linking their fingers together and turning back to her book. He wasn't looking like a pretty picture, but he at least wasn't endangering himself and anyone within his vicinity. Gollum had informed her that it was the best they could hope for as of now, and to just stay near him when able. They could only hope that it meant he would be hitting his upswing soon enough.

Stan sat, perched in a wooden chair across the room by Kyle's desk, arms crossed and staring at their connected hands with a grumpy sneer. He didn't know how many times he'd internally screamed the words _"unfair"_ and _"fucking impossible",_ but they seemed to be secured to a wheel, consistently spinning and running him through the same visuals time and again. He was fucking exhausted, only catching a half-hour nap at a time when Craig or Christophe would come relieve him for a few minutes. They'd offered more than once to stay for a full shift, but Stan was _adamant_ that he could only spare short bursts of reprieve. Too much danger was still teetering, Kyle was still looking _so_ unwell and throwing him into a perpetual panic.

He didn't understand how Kendra sat by him so calmly, merely flipping through her book as opposed to watching the prince for subtle telltale flinches. _'Because she doesn't care,'_ he scoffed before his shoulders sank and he sighed quietly. _'…As much,'_ he amended. She did, that much had been made _beyond_ obvious in the last day spent together. She had only budged from her seat to use the restroom or pace beside Kyle's bed to awaken her tingling legs. She'd napped in her chair in a way that even had Stan wincing with how goddamn _uncomfortable_ it looked: Her cheek pressed against the back, body contorted just enough so that she could still be holding Kyle's hand, could _feel_ if something was to go awry.

Stan wondered if she'd be here until Kyle woke up at long last, and with each passing hour, that was becoming more and more plausible a theory. She seemed just as obstinately determined to see him through it as Stan did, and it made him nauseous. She was going to be the first thing Kyle saw when he woke up, probably confused with the change in routine since it had _always_ been Stan there beside of him. He wondered if it would upset the prince, or if such a mix-up would _relieve_ him, even make him _happy_. Stan shuddered. He hoped not. He hoped just for confusion. Letting Kyle wake up, take in the brunt of what he was coming into, and maybe quietly asking where Stan was.

Selfish, perhaps. But it was the little things that kept him going anymore, Stan had discovered. Just little motions that only he and Kyle could interpret between the two of them. Stan's subtle nods for him to proceed in safety, Kyle's hidden grip on his arm reminding him to calm down. They were a language no other could read, it was an edge that he still had in this never-ending game. It was enough to stave him through yanking out his hair at the _very_ least.

He and Kendra both looked up and towards the stairwell at a group of footsteps ascending the wooden incline. They blinked at the royal family emerging from the stairs, Stan automatically getting to his feet for their presence, Kendra trying to do the same but tangled still in Kyle's slack grip.

Sheila watched her trying to unweave their fingers and smiled, observing the care Kendra took to not rouse the sleeping prince. "Don't worry about that," she cooed, Kendra looking up at her and blinking. "You stay just as you are." Kendra gulped, bowing her head a bit, sliding her fingers back into their comfortable interlocking.

Gerald looked over at Stan, still standing and staring at them with large bags starkly bursting from under his eyes. He sighed to himself, Stan always looked nearly as worse for wear as Kyle did in his bouts. Never stopped him though, not once. He knew it upset his son that Stan went so overboard in his vigilance, but, that's what he was _there for_. "Stan," he finally spoke, the ranger straightening into attention. "Any word since Gollum's last visit?"

He shook his head, "Um, no, Your Majesty. No further attacks. He's just been sleeping. Uneasily though," he winced, gesturing to Kyle's furrowed brow and uncomfortable shifting. "This seems to be… _worse_ than previous bouts," he said quietly.

Ike looked from his brother to the soldier and shrugged. "Well… she said it may seem that way if he's not releasing it all in his attacks. May just take longer for him to work through it… but at least he's not almost killing anyone."

"He hasn't woken up since his last attack, though," he said grimly, looking at Kendra with slight suspicion before returning to the Broflovskis. "That's worrying."

"He _needs_ the rest," Sheila reminded him. "If he's sleeping, then he and the rest of us are safe. I'd rather that than hearing him cry," she cleared her throat, fighting down a wave of exhausted tears from waiting for updates. Those came later, they always did. First priority was Kyle's health, making sure that he made a full recovery. Only _then_ would she allow herself to break down in the middle of the night and lock herself in the sanctuary, both thanking the spirits for guiding Kyle through his illness and snapping at them for cursing him in the first place. It was an arduous routine built from years of suffering, but it was one of the few things she had in the situation that kept her going, and kept her from burying _herself_ into an overbearing pile of guilt for being so _helpless_.

She cleared her throat once more, straightening herself up, "Stanley, could you please go wait outside his door? We need to speak with Kendra."

Stan blinked, looking between a shocked and terrified looking Kendra and the overtly calm royal family. "Are… are you _sure_?"

"We know how to yell if he gets outta hand," Ike rolled his eyes. "Just friggin' go."

"Ike," Sheila warned, flicking his upper arm before turning her attention back to Stan's wary expression. "It'll be fine," she assured him.

He hesitated, stealing another glance at his bedridden prince and groaning under his breath, giving a small, conceding nod. Not as though he had much of a _choice_ here, regardless. "Okay," he whispered, sparing Kendra a look and a shrug before turning and making his way towards the stairwell.

Ike and Gerald spread out around the room, both grabbing chairs left behind by guards and assistants to tote to Kyle's bed opposite Kendra's side. Kendra gulped, watching with a slight tremble as the three of them sat down, looking at Kyle's ashen form with her and shaking their heads, the closeness providing her with a fuller picture of the misery they were struggling through. Each of them had worried creases that seemed etched into their brow, reddened eyes and exhaustion reigning their profiles. She wondered if she looked much better by this point.

Sheila sighed, raising a plump hand and putting it over Kyle's forehead, dotingly combing through his bangs. "He always looks so skinny," she murmured, sparing Kendra a glance with an efforted grin. "He's going to look awful when he wakes up. Always takes him a few months to gain back the weight…" she trailed off, Ike looking between her and Kyle and heaving a deep sigh.

"He's always a skinny shit anyway," he muttered.

Kendra hesitated, looking at Kyle's nightstand pushed aside beside her that harbored her writing materials. She looked again at the family watching Kyle solemnly, squeezing his fingers and contorting herself around to begin scribbling down atop her parchment. She bit her lip, wondering what it was they wanted as she finished her quick note and turned back towards them, finding Gerald looking at her with a sympathetic smile. "You holding up all right?" he asked her.

She offered him a half-hearted shrug, squeezing Kyle's hand pointedly and letting out a sigh.

Ike nodded in understanding, "It fuckin' sucks," he concurred. "Asshole is stubborn, though. He'll be awake and bitching before you know it."

" _Ike_ ," Sheila warned.

He gave her an innocent shrug, "What? She's gonna be family, she should get used to it. 'Sides, Kyle talks worse than I do half the time." Kendra couldn't help but laugh, nodding in agreement. Sheila shook her head, muttering under her breath about all the wasted hours she spent trying to keep them as civil, polite talkers.

Kendra looked between them, gulping and reaching back for her paper with shaking fingers, her other hand tightening around Kyle's for some menial means of support. She handed it off to Gerald, the other two leaning in and reading a simple, _'So, I understand if it's not my business or if you don't know. But what's wrong with him?'_

They paused, Gerald and Sheila sharing a skeptical look before Ike rolled his eyes. "Guys. She's _marrying him_. She needs to know more than anyone." Kendra's brow raised, wondering just how damn secret they were keeping his illness if that were the case.

Sheila cleared her throat, stroking a thumb over Kyle's forehead and nodding slowly. "This stays with you," she began, looking up at her with steely green eyes that sent a tremor down Kendra's spine, seeing _exactly_ where Kyle got it from. "Only we and Gollum know. Stanley doesn't know. Not even _Kyle_ knows, do you understand?"

Her heart hitched, nodding briskly and bringing her other hand up to cup Kyle's, sitting patiently for one of them to continue.

Gerald took the reins, letting out a long breath. "We… can't even say it's something _wrong_ with him," he winced. "In fact… it's… a blessing, hard as that is to believe," he shrugged.

Kendra raised her brow in incredulity, looking between her fallen fiancé and the uncomfortable faces of his family.

Ike picked up, "Okay, so, there's some basic elven history you have to know to know _why_ it's a 'blessing'," he said, Kendra slowly nodding him on. "Has Kyle told you about The Creation?" She shook her head and he groaned quietly. Great. Figures Kyle slacked on the damn mythology.

Sheila clicked her teeth. "To put it _very_ briefly, the Ssussun came about from one elf, The Creator," she shrugged. "Obviously, They were _very_ powerful. Created life, nature, light… everything we consider _good_." Kendra blinked, waiting for this to tie-in somehow as opposed to just learning a damn bedtime story. Sheila continued, "The Creator had a… _special_ ability that few other elves after have had. They could hold a seed and create plant life without soil."

Kendra nearly jerked back, baffled by such a statement. Gerald nodded at her reaction, "Exactly. It's unique. And only _very_ powerful elves have been able to do it since the dawn of our time. Maybe one every few generations, but they're usually… well… They usually don't last long," he shrugged. "Either the power consumes them and their body can't handle it or… they… kill themselves because it's such an awful way to live."

She swallowed, looking between Kyle and the other three, raising a shaking hand and pointing to him. Ike nodded, "Yeah. He's one of 'em."

Sheila sighed, "Word got out about him using his powers when he was a baby, we had to change the story and spread the rumor ourselves. Told everyone he just threw a branch… But, he grew a tree," she whispered, looking back at her son with heartbroken eyes. "Found an acorn and it just turned to a sapling in his little hand before he couldn't hold it anymore. We kept trying to get to him but… there were roots _everywhere_. It just kept growing, made a cage around him."

"And he was just in there laughing," Gerald smiled meekly. "But it took us a good hour to get to him, the plants just didn't want anyone to interfere with him _creating_. We tried to hold it, didn't give him the same magic training as _most_ Drow kids take, only showed him how to suppress it... Didn't go over so well. His magic had no release, so it just built and built as he learned to keep it down before it just…" he stopped, struggling for words and his eyes flittering down miserably.

"Crippled him," Ike finished, cringing at his parents looking so damn guilty before turning his attention back to an awe-struck Kendra. "He almost died when he was eight it hit him so damn hard. And now, he's on these… potions. Because he isn't stable enough to actually _wield_ most of his magic since he never had training. They suppress his power, but it can only keep so much down before… he hits these spells," he gestured to his unconscious brother. "Then it just kind of resets him and he starts all over again."

Kendra reached back for her supplies, bringing them onto the bed and beginning to scribe, mind racing. This was almost too much at once, unable to wrap her head around the fact that she was holding hands with someone on par with whom the Drow considered the _utmost_ power to be reached. It was _terrifying_ , but not nearly as much as being told that they _don't last long_. Having that catapulted at her out of nowhere was not treating her already-weary psyche well. She handed it off to Sheila, _'But he showed me some magic, he brought a leaf back to life. I thought he didn't have training?'_

She looked at her with a sad smile, "Exactly. He was never shown how to do that. He just _knows_. We managed to convince him that only certain, _slower_ Drow need actual training, that it's instinctual in most all of us… But no. We're born with the ability, but not the know-how. Kyle can do nearly anything within the realm of elven magic just by _wanting to_. It's his greatest asset… and his greatest liability," she winced.

' _Because it makes him so sick?'_

Gerald nodded slowly, "Well, that and… and it makes him… _valuable_ ," he said with caution. "Others in our lore with his abilities were hunted for their power, or just ostracized until someone who wanted to use them feigned pity and turned them to the side of the Olath. Or… his powers could be used for great things… but destroy him in the process," he looked down at his hands and sighed sadly. Kendra cocked her head a bit and Sheila rubbed Gerald's shoulder.

"Kyle's great grandmother, Gerald's grandmother… she was also one of the _'descendants'_ ," she shrugged. "She ended up using all her power to balance the instability of The Stick during The War. It put her into a coma and eventually killed her."

Kendra blinked, rapidly jotting down another note, eyes fleeting between her paper and Kyle's unknowing face. Ike took it from her as she finished, _'How did that work? Why was it unbalanced?'_

Ike looked at her with heavy brown eyes, reading ancestral guilt as he murmured out, "Humans. They infected it with their own magic, but didn't know _how_ to do so properly. The Stick is an _elven_ creation, it wasn't able to handle having a human's influx. They kept adding more and more, trying to get it to work, and it nearly wiped everything out. So, Great Grandma had to match their power to get it back under control. She was the only one that could."

"She figured it was either her or a good twenty elves that'd have to give up their lives to keep it balanced," Gerald added.

Kendra took a deep breath, slowly writing out another note and sliding it under his bowed head. _'So, this power gets passed down?'_

He looked up at her and shrugged, "We don't know. These two are the only ones whose identities aren't so _heavily_ protected in the lore that we know of. The others could have been through my family, or it could be mere coincidence that it continued down the line."

"Honestly, if that's the case, it makes you a blessing," Sheila said quietly, Kendra shooting her head towards her and staring in bewilderment. "We don't know if… you and Kyle can have actual children…" she started slowly.

' _Yeah, no. I don't think that's happening,'_ Kenny broke out for a moment before being shoved back down where he belonged.

"But this kind of power can only reside in pure-blooded elves. So, any children the two of you have will either be mixed-blooded or adopted. Either way, it cuts off our bloodline. If this _is_ something that can be passed down, then we can stop it right here," she said firmly, Kendra reading both relief and devastation in the declaration.

Kendra cleared her throat with a wince, pointing meekly at Ike who shrugged. "Yeah, that's why I'm here," he answered without so much as a frown. "They didn't want any more kids of their own line, so they took me in when I showed up."

"You make it sound so _awful_ , Isaac," his mother lectured.

He snorted, "Listen, I'm glad it worked out that way, but don't pretend you _wanted_ a human kid all along. I just happened to come along and it worked out." Sheila and Gerald looked at each other, still guilt-laden and sighing, leaning against one another and watching Kyle's breathing. Ike turned back to Kendra who seemed to still be reeling from all this information piling on top of her. "Listen, the important thing here is Kyle can _never know_ ," he emphasized, making sure she looked at him once again and widening his eyes pointedly. "Last thing we need is for him to be freaking out that he's the next 'chosen one' or whatever, and thinking he's going to die in the same way Great Grandma did."

"Precisely," Sheila agreed. " _We're_ already scared enough of that to cover him as well. None of their stories end with a 'happily ever after'. We can pray that Kyle's will, but that's as much as can be done. Anything more would make it so _he_ knows, and that would do nothing more than add an unnecessary strain to his health. We've never let him see those stories, they've been hidden away and aren't to be taken back out until he passes. The best we can do is just tell him he was born with more power than a usual elf and leave it at that. Do you understand?"

Kendra nodded briskly, wrist working away and a shaking breath escaping her lips. This was a lot. This was almost _too much_. Her heart was pounding, her stomach clenching in worry. What if each of these _spells_ of his were counting down until one finally did him in? She'd been told this one seemed more painful than those of the past, would they just _keep_ worsening as time went on? Would Kyle just deteriorate as the power became more and more impatient for release? She shuddered, unable to help tightening around his fingers, terrified by the notion. She handed her page off, _'How does no one else in the palace know that's what it is? Many have seen this before, right?'_

Gerald shrugged, "No one who knew of my grandmother's situation is still alive, or their kids are alive and believe it to be no more than a fairytale. And… we just did a damn good job at convincing the kingdom that he was just unusually powerful. Look around," he gestured, Kendra doing so and looking back at him with a tilted head. "Every plant in here is connected to soil. We made sure of it. Even the vines," he pointed to the dirt caked between the cracks of Kyle's walls. No one knows that he can make them go _without_ the soil keeping them alive. We've taken every precaution we can to keep this hidden. We've only let them know that he gets sick from the power, but he makes it through."

' _Did your grandmother get sick with her power, too?'_

Gerald winced, "I don't know," he admitted. "But… I don't think so. Or if she did, she had less of it than Kyle does and could keep moving. She might've learned how to harness it if she wasn't told to keep it under wraps like we did to him."

Sheila went back to petting through Kyle's hair, looking at Kendra with a burdened face and guilted eyes. "I'm sorry," she said softly, getting Kendra's confused attention on her. "I'm sorry that you came into this without knowing what you would be undertaking. Your marriage is going to be… difficult," she said slowly. "On more levels than we were willing to tell you. And there'll be these times when he's sick and the kingdom will be fully in _your_ hands until he heals. It's a very heavy price to pay, and I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner."

She looked along the three of them cringing into themselves a bit, dipping her quill and writing away, unable to keep a saddened smile from her face before passing it off to her. _'That's fine, and I understand why I wasn't told. The whole mixed-species thing was enough for us all to need to take a few months to let settle. I'm just glad this thing only lasts a week or so at a time. I hate seeing him like this.'_

Sheila looked back at her, touched and smiling softly. "You're nothing like your king," she said, Gerald and Ike looking at her in slight surprise for saying something so politically bold. She looked at them and scoffed, "We can't kid ourselves. He despises Kyle, would be off _laughing_ if he saw him like this," she gestured down to her son before looking back at Kendra. "But you're staying with him, and taking _care_ of him," she emphasized, reaching over and squeezing her hand atop Kyle's. "You're going to make a _wonderful_ queen for him. We weren't so sure when the idea came about, but now we _know_." Kendra's face went beet red, blue eyes flittering about before gulping and nodding in embarrassed thanks.

Ike shook his head, "Mom. Stop. You're making this corny enough for _all of us_ to get as sick as Ky."

"Hush, you," Sheila scolded, slapping Gerald with the back of her hand as he stifled a laugh. She sighed, shaking her head and turning back to Kendra with a smile that made her heart ache. It reminded her far too much of Liane, of her own mother that he could barely remember from dreams long passed. Nothing but simplistic, maternal comfort that she'd missed so dearly since Queen Liane's passing, finding a tender warmth deep within being confronted with it once more. "We do have to go back to business unfortunately," Sheila informed her. "Is there anything you need, Hon?"

Kendra went to shake her head before stopping, holding up a finger and rapidly writing down a note to throw at Ike. He blinked, reading, _'Who is Nalia?'_

He looked at her with a cocked brow. "Nalia? How do you know about her?" Another note immediately came to him, even more baffled as he handed it off to his parents.

' _Kyle talked to me before he last passed out. Said I smell like her in Elvish. Stanley wouldn't tell me if that's a good or bad thing.'_

Sheila and Gerald shared a look before glancing to their eldest son and Gerald cleared his throat. "Well… depends on who you ask. Her story has a lot of versions," he shrugged. "But all of them agree that she was the one who took flowers from The Creator and went to plant them around the world."

"She was a whore," Ike said blandly, Sheila reaching around and smacking his arm.

"You watch your mouth," she lectured before looking at Kendra's hurt face and shaking her head. "No, not a _'whore'_ ," she rolled her eyes. "She always smelled like flowers. She lured people in because they wanted to know what smelled so wonderful."

"And then slept with all of them."

"Ike. _Stop_ ," Gerald rubbed his eyes. "No. She _didn't_. A few, yes. Any that she didn't find _worthy_ of her time were made into soil. So, they could 'finally call themselves useful'," he quoted from a long-standing tale he'd read time and again.

Kendra looked at them skeptically, writing another slow note and making sure to keep it from Ike's hands as she passed it to the king and queen. _'And those she did?'_

"She kept with her," Sheila shrugged. "She only kept those who impressed her, those who made her _love_ them. People who brought her her flowers in new colors, or new kinds all together, or those who showed her how much they _cared_ about her work. It's a _lovely_ story."

"It's how I learned about sex," Ike rolled his eyes, barely avoiding another smack. "She's called the goddamn _temptress_ , Mom."

Sheila frowned, "She's _called_ the flower, Isaac."

"More like the _deflowered_."

"All right, that's _enough_ , go downstairs," Sheila snapped, Ike raising his hands in defense. He muttered under his breath and kicked his chair out of the way, mocking his mother's tone as he made way to the stairs. Sheila shook her head, looking back at Kendra looking embarrassed, flattered, and just _confused_. "It's a good thing to be called," she promised. "Nalia is _so_ important to the Drow. Even with those like _Ike_ who don't read past the text. It was always Kyle's favorite story."

Gerald nodded, "He thought it was so great that she was trusted with so much responsibility and came through. And got to destroy anyone that she didn't find worthwhile. He envied that," he smirked. "He would only mean it in a good way, he respects Nalia too much for anything less."

Kendra looked down at Kyle, feeling that warm fondness worming its way back through her chest and squeezing his hand a bit tighter.

Sheila smirked at her knowingly, motioning for Gerald to stand with her. "You just send someone if you need anything, Dear." Kendra nodded, not able to so much as glance at them as she continued to stare at the prince. Sheila looked at Gerald with a grin, one that he'd lived with through the years as her never-ending _'I told you so'_ expression. He smiled, admitting defeat, and nodded her on, both patting Kyle's head before turning and heading back to walk out of the room, out of Kendra's moment.

Kendra took a deep breath, leaning her forehead down against his temple and breathing in a rich smell of pine and honeycombs. She heard the door quietly shutting at the end of the stairwell. She felt so conflicted. She was filled with nothing but worry, but at the same time relishing in the kindest thing that had ever been said to her. Did Kyle mean it? Was it just the sickness talking? Or had he really made _such_ a comparison when lost in the throes of his suffering. If anyone could do it, she supposed, it would be Kyle.

She dropped her guard for just a moment, letting Kenny take the reins again and sniffling, nuzzling down against Kyle's unresponsive head. He didn't know what to do. He just wanted Kyle awake again, wanted to pick back up where they left off. Or did this take them further? Would this propel him to tell Kyle the truth faster or hold him back on the off-chance he'd be breaking Kyle's heart? He had no idea, and the anticipation was _killing_ him. A shaking breath rattled his lungs, reaching up to pull down the scarf over his mouth and plant his lips against Kyle's cheek. _"I hope you'll understand,"_ he whispered. He couldn't help a wide, adoring smile as Kyle let out a soft noise at his voice, shifting in his slumber to nestle closer against his warmth. Kenny sighed happily, planting soft pecks along his face, letting himself pretend, for just this brief moment, that truths were out, that they remained on their path, and that their future together stayed bright.


	27. Towards Normality

This part was always the hardest.

When the pain really set in, when he could _comprehend_ just what muscles he'd strained, how hoarse his throat was, how many bruises he'd garnered from being wrestled back down onto his bed. Kyle was in no hurry to come back into the waking world as the bittersweet echoes of consciousness finally shuffled within his reach. No, he just wanted to stay where he was right before here, where he couldn't quite recognize the light weight of his quilt and the plushness of his mattress underneath his aching back. He could feel his arms and legs tingling from their lack of use, his neck locked with a cruel crick.

His chest heaved with a shaking breath, forcing a dry gulp to roll down his throat, trying to reinvigorate his salivary glands to lessen at least the barest of his struggles. A quiet whimper left him before he could stop it, trying to move but only managing his head falling limply to its side on his pillow. A foreign sensation became apparent as nerves flooded back into use, brows furrowing at the feeling of light pressure in his hand, slid between the webbing of his fingers. He groaned under his breath, a shudder racking through him.

He needed to get up. Needed to face this. Quicker he did, the quicker it would go away, his weary brain reminded him. Kyle allowed himself once more to take a preparatory breath, feeling his lungs expand and contracting with approval.

With great struggle, he creaked open his eyes, graced by the scraggly vision of thick lashes before a beam of sunlight smashed against his retinas and forced him back into hiding. He hated when he woke up in the daytime, it was always so much goddamn harder to cope with. Another breath, another attempt. His nose scrunched with effort, brow knitted with concentration as he pried his lids up just enough for light to sneak back through, forcing himself to remain in its touch for adjustment.

A good ten seconds of keeping himself stasis granted him self-given permission for a recovery blink before opening back just a bit wider. The world was coming back into his view, seeing blurred outlines of a multitude of items at his bedside. God, he just wanted it back. Just wanted to spring up out of his bed feeling refreshed and greet the day with an utter thankfulness.

Instead, he was here, slowly wallowing through more misery before he could so much as consider lifting an arm. It wasn't fair, forever _trapped_ by this ridiculous pattern of his. There was no celebrating when he woke up, at least, not on his part. The kingdom would be more than pleased, and he would be showered in nothing but _'oh thank the gods'_ and hugs for a week at the very least. But he couldn't come back with a smile, he'd come back with legs that hardly functioned and a starved body that even he couldn't believe kept him upright.

Another blink and a little more into the light. He forced down a determined breath, prying his lids up until fully opened. It burned, it _ached_ , but it was nothing compared to how the rest of his body seemed to be faring. _'How long was I out this time?'_ he wondered. He felt worse than he usually did when he woke up, like his muscles had atrophied a tad more and his aching shoulders seemed more pronounced.

A quick succession of allowing his lashes to flutter back into life rewarded him with a clearer picture, seeing the mostly recognizable outlines of his left-hand nightstand. He narrowed his eyes in confusion, seeing what seemed to be _books_ piled atop it. He knew he didn't leave them there, and Stan rarely read _one_ thing when he was out, let alone an entire archive. Squinting, he could make out the vague spellings of _'Drow Land Routes'_ and _'Elven Translations'_ rested atop the pile.

' _Why would Stan need a translation?'_ he wondered in utter bewilderment. Nearly jerking at the sensation, he felt the pressure on his hand moving, something _stroking_ the back of his knuckles.

He took a long, heavy breath, allowing himself one more blink before shifting his head to look down at what was keeping a hold of him. His head almost spun at the unexpected sight of blonde hair swept into a disheveled braid. A face was worn with worry and exhaustion, but locked down on a book, trying to keep awake in the silence of his bedroom. Kyle gulped, fighting to convince himself that yes, he _was_ seeing this. That it wasn't _Stan_ diligently at his bedside upon his awakening, but the newcomer that he had never _wanted_ to see him in this awful condition. He supposed it didn't matter at this point, just looking at her own tired face, he could assume she'd been around him for a good while, had seen him go through some of his more _troubling_ circumstances as members of the palace had called them.

Kyle just stared, lost in another haze, unbelieving that Kendra was keeping so close to him as she flipped through her book, never letting her touch waver from his hand. He didn't know how to react to this. If he should be embarrassed or grateful. He was both, he decided. But humiliation seemed a far-off notion with how groggy he felt, it could be saved for a later time.

With forced exertion, he dropped his mouth to speak, jaw trembling with the strain. _"…Kendra?"_ he finally fought out, coughing quietly as the last syllable lingered a bit too strongly on his throat.

Kendra's head shot up and pivoted towards him, eyes brightening at once at the sight of confused, tired green looking back at her for an explanation. She practically threw down her book, twisting in her chair and immediately moving to place her forehead down against Kyle's. He let out a quiet grunt at her arm coming to wrap around his chest and shoulder and tug him closer, face heating as she nestled down against his head. He wasn't nearly conscious enough for this. He opted to not give into the embarrassment, instead just simmering into her hold, just grateful to be awake to know the touch of another being once more.

His head fell limply against hers, and his lips curled subtly at that homey scent coming right back to him. He needed this. Needed someone with him, needed to come back into the world to familiarity, to comfort.

"Your Highness?" a timid, scratchy voice broke between them. Kendra lifted with a sigh, annoyed at the immediate interruption, but helping turn Kyle's head to see Stan on the opposite side of the bed, the ranger looking at him with teary eyes.

Kyle couldn't help but smile softly at him, eyes drooping with grogginess. That same damn look. Stan never wavered from routine. "Stop… bein' a pussy," he breathed out, feeling Kendra letting out a gentle, shaking laugh around him.

Stan let out a long, tremoring breath of relief. "How do you feel?"

"Like hell," he answered honestly. "Sort of."

Kendra cocked her head down at him and he shrugged. "Just sorer than usual… but I-I can think at least. I usually can't for… a few days after t-this stuff," he laughed humorlessly.

Stan sighed to himself. She'd changed the entire damn game. "Princess," he spoke, getting Kendra's eyes back on him. "I can fill him in on what happened. Why don't you go… freshen up and then come back up here? We can send for food and you can eat up here with him."

She blinked, both locked in a stare of bewilderment, but understanding. They'd both spent the last few days trekking through Hell with one another, arguing semantics of who stood where were the furthest thing from their mind. They were both just too damn grateful to have their mutual party back up and talking to them. Kendra looked down at Kyle still wrapped in her hold and he gave her a small shrug, "I'm fine," he promised.

She shook her head. He was lying out of his ass, but she was nothing more than a bystander here. She couldn't exactly force him to read an essay on what he'd put her through. Not yet at least. She nodded softly, leaning down and tugging her scarf enough to plant her lips firmly against Kyle's forehead, making sure to linger long enough to hear the slight churning of Stan's stomach. Replacing her scarf, she moved back up, smirking at Kyle's blush and petting his tousled hair before getting to her feet and nodding to Stan.

Kyle watched after her as she genially made her way towards and down his stairwell with calculated precision, blinking. He must be worse off than he initially assessed, he thought he'd felt the telltale pinprick of _stubble_ brushing against his head with her touch.

He shook himself as she went out of sight, looking back up to find Stan looking caught between utterly brokenhearted and relieved. It was a common expression after these bouts. "Help me," he whispered, rolling his eyes at Stan diving beside of him in frantic panic.

"With what? What's wrong? What hurts, Kyle, what can I do?!" he rambled.

Kyle shook his head. "Help me _sit up_ ," he ordered.

"…Are you _sure_ you want-"

"Stan f-for the love of God, s-sit me up!" he snapped, falling into an immediate coughing fit with the vocal strain. Stan groaned to himself. So goddamn _stubborn_. He sat next to him, sliding a strong arm underneath his back and helping lift him upright, genially scooching him to rest against his headboard. Kyle practically flopped against it, panting and struggling to look back at his timid ranger. He granted him a small smile. "Dude. You've seen worse," he reminded him.

Stan sighed, eyes burning but refusing to rub at them for fear of missing Kyle lurching with pain and needing his assistance. "Doesn't make it easier, Ky," he whispered.

Kyle's shoulders slumped in culpability. He knew how hard these bouts hit Stan, how he would usually find himself ill in the days to follow from running himself ragged keeping his eye on him. He gulped, a weak arm strained with atrophy and bruises working its way slowly to land atop Stan's own shaking appendage. "I'm okay," he promised him, voice nothing short of a lullaby to his ranger's ringing ears. Stan looked down at their hands, turning his own over and gripping his palm, squeezing with the geniality one would show a newborn. The protruding bones of Kyle's knuckles and wrist worried him. They always so starkly stood under ashen skin, but it was so much more prominent in these times. Kyle followed his sight, wincing at a fuzzy vision of red still pressed into his wrists. "Got th-that bad again… huh?"

Stan sighed through his nose, nodding softly and stroking his thumb along the side of Kyle's index finger. "Yeah. You were really fighting that first time. Took a few of us to get you down."

"And you say… I can't defend m-myself," he teased breathlessly, small grin fading as heartbroken blue eyes finally found their way back to his weary stare. "Stan? W-was something d-different?" he whispered, reading so much more in that familiar face than he was used to. More exhaustion, more pain, more _fear_.

He bit his lip, fighting with himself over the right thing to do. "You were out… for nine days," he murmured.

Kyle's face fell, blinking rapidly. He'd _never_ been out from these bouts for so long. Not since his _first_ fall. Six had so far been his maximum, and no one planned for more than that to be had anymore. Kyle wondered if he'd unintentionally thrown the palace into a full-fledged frenzy. The implications were of numerous possibilities, each more staggering than the last. "Was it… Did I…" he couldn't find the words, still too worn and now too _overwhelmed_ to figure out something so menial as coherent sentence structures.

"The first few days, you were as bad as usual," Stan shrugged. "A little worse, actually. You had a few fits closer together than you usually do. Caught me off-guard a few times. But then…" he hesitated, wondering how far he should delve into explanations. "A few days later, you stopped having any. You didn't seem to be in… _as much_ pain as usual," he winced. "You stayed pretty much fully asleep from the third day until now. Only a few times waking up and just kind of… mumbling," he scratched through his hair with his free hand. What Kyle had said was complete gibberish in those days, his and Kendra's names occasionally popping through the cracks and Kendra confusedly wondering if he was spouting off another round of Elvish until Craig confirmed what Stan had told her, that he was nothing but nonsensical.

Kyle's face twisted, looking down at their hands and brow furrowing. He seemed so much sorer than usual, but apparently, something had been different. Something had kept him planted down and nothing but unconscious. "Why… why do y-you think that is?" he asked, looking up again at his best friend, praying for an answer he'd like to hear. All he could conclude on his own was a morbid _'you're getting weaker. It's eating you from the inside-out. You're creeping closer to the end than you realize.'_

Stan gulped, squeezing his hand again. How much he wanted to reveal, he still hadn't the slightest idea. He just wanted this to be a normal wake-up, where Kyle would take a little longer to find his words but he wouldn't look so _defeated_ and _scared_. He wanted Kyle to have woken up to him, recognized him before all else…

His lips pursed tightly, disappointed in himself. That was selfish. Far _far_ too selfish of a thought to have for the prince he so desperately cared for. His mind kicking back so quickly _had_ to be a good thing. It just _had_ to be. It meant his Kyle was still the dominant presence, not this power that was so bitterly trying to consume him. And Kendra was bringing that out, whether he admitted to it or not.

"I don't know," he lied, the words slipping through his lips before he could stop them, heart sinking for betraying his conscious. "What… what's important is you're up and thinking. That must mean something good, right?"

"I was… out for so m-much longer though," he mumbled, a tremor roaring down his spine. He didn't know what this meant in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it was a one-off, maybe it meant he was stronger, or weaker. He just didn't _know_. Kyle sighed. He supposed, for now, it didn't matter. If Gollum felt something so sinister was on his horizon, she'd be sure to let him know and take the proper precautions. For now, it was nothing more than a waiting game, only able to hope that he'd be walking out of it with the full deck. "Are you okay?" He asked quietly.

"Same as always," Stan offered him a weak smile, lips still twitching to go back into their anxious, fallen state that had been so permanent the last week and a half. "Just… glad you're up."

"You a-and me both," he snorted. "Why was Kendra up here?"

An ache rang through Stan's chest that he forced down. It was a reasonable question. And Kyle had asked as to _his_ wellbeing first, so he at least had that on his side. "She was insistent," he told him. "Forced herself up here."

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "Forced herself? Why would s-she need to do th-that?" he coughed, rubbing at his eye with the hand not still locked in Stan's worrisome grip.

"We didn't want her up here," he murmured, looking back at the frail fingers he held. "Didn't know if she could compromise your health further. But… she barged in a few days after you went down." he shrugged, trying to keep an expression of displeasure from ravaging his face.

He blinked slowly, trying to follow along with his implications. His immunity be damned, why was _she_ kept out? He knew well enough there were more than a handful of palace workers that cared for him when he had his spells, and he doubted any of them were scrutinized so heavily…

He frowned. Why was he even questioning it? He knew the answer well enough: Stan, Ike, Token, and Clyde were the _only_ humans that'd been permitted to see him as he was. Any healthy elf with the proper permissions could see him to aid the healing process as they pleased. Seemed they tried to blacklist his damn _fiancée_ of all people. "Next time," he croaked, getting Stan's attention back on him, "there's to be no q-question as to whether or not she's allowed up h-here. Unless ya know… s-she's sick or somethin'…" he trailed off, slumping exhaustedly. How he could be so tired with nine days of nothing but sleep, he would never understand.

Stan sealed his lips tightly, forcing down a round of vigorous rebuttals against the order. Mattered little and he damn well knew it. Kyle made those calls, only his parents or Gollum could officially override them. "Yes, My Prince."

"Oh Lord, d-don't start that," he rolled his eyes. "Just get me clothes and help me g-get dressed," he said, struggling to worm himself from out under his quilt.

"Kyle," he winced, "maybe you should-"

"Stanley, get me _out of this bed_ ," he ordered, voice gaining vibrato as he neared the end of his patience. He was too tired for this. Stan had played doting caretaker since he started working his way towards his fall, he couldn't goddamn deal with it right now. He needed food, he needed to _move_.

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly and nodding. "All right, give me a second." He allowed himself one more squeeze of Kyle's palm before unwillingly taking his hand back, getting to his feet and making way to the wardrobe.

Kyle grunted, managing at last to free his bared legs from the confines of his sheets, wincing at the thinness of his calves. "God," he muttered, fighting to bend his knees and bring his hands to rest on the withered muscle of his right leg, shaking his head. "I look like an elder," he mumbled in misery.

Stan looked at him from digging through Kyle's shirts, shoulders falling. "Ky, no you don't. You'll be back to normal soon enough."

"No, it's _n-never_ soon enough," he replied, tongue laced with bitterness. Weak fingers pressed against the skin, feeling it tingle with the touch. He didn't want to do this. This was going to _hurt_. But it was so damn necessary. A deep breath swelled through his chest, exhaling as he went to twist his body, toes pointing down to plant on the floor. "Okay," he murmured under his breath, face scrunching with pain as he made way to stand and yelping as his knees immediately buckled and sent him down onto the floor. "FUCK!" he yelled, beating his fist against the polished wood.

Stan was back at his side immediately, pulling him back up to sit on the bed, ignoring Kyle's furious squirming all the while. "Kyle, give yourself a few minutes," he lectured. "You can't just go running off right now." Kyle's face fell into a pitiable pout, eyes locked on the floor in shame.

He didn't know what to do if this continued into his age of reign. He couldn't exactly promote the image of an impenetrable monarchy if he couldn't goddamn _walk_. Sickly sovereigns were never of substantial use to their people if history remained tried and true. Whether through mutiny or just the notion of having an inability to perform their duties, they were seen as an inconvenience to their kingdoms, considered feeble and helpless when they were supposed to strut out with their heads held high, too strong for the _common man_ to believe they could take down. _'Guess Kendra has to take over that part when it gets like this,'_ he thought miserably.

"All right, let's get you dressed," Stan suggested, heart lurching at the dismay spelled on his prince's face. "C'mon," he urged, snagging a pair of pants he'd tossed onto his bed in his hurry and beginning to help him maneuver his legs to slip them on under his nightshirt. Kyle blankly went through the motions with him, save for the occasional grunt as Stan threw his arm over his broad shoulders. "Need to stand you up," he said, Kyle nodding, teeth gritting as Stan lifted him up onto his feet, legs trying again to falter. "Just hold onto me," Stan encouraged, Kyle keeping as tight a grip on his shoulder as he could manage. They both struggled to pull the clinging fabric up his sweated legs, cursing Larnion royal dress code the whole way through. Kyle always wanted what their people lightheartedly called 'peasant pants'. Loose and easy enough for the hard laborer to slip on with ease if one had overslept. But no, he was confined to these _damn_ contouring clothes that accentuated just how much mass he'd lost.

He hissed as Stan lightly guided him to stand in front of him, lifting his nightshirt to help keep it from getting stuck in his pants, rough fingers brushing over Kyle's ass and making him shudder with what seemed to be such a foreign touch in his weary state. A loud sound from the stairwell made them shoot their heads around, seeing Kendra with wetted hair tripped over herself atop the landing staring at them from the floor blatantly. Stan immediately shoved Kyle aside onto the bed with a yelp and covered him with his fresh shirt, glaring at the unwelcomed visitor. "Your Highness, maybe next time you _knock_?!" he stressed.

Kendra blinked, realizing just what had happened and waving her hands frantically in apology, struggling to swivel herself up and turn herself around to stare down the steps, planting her burning face into her hand and shaking her head. Whoops. Definitely not intentional. Not _regretted_ in the slightest, but not intentional.

Kyle stared up at his ceiling, silent and cringing. He was _not_ awake enough for this level of embarrassment. _'Please tell me I'm still sick and stuck in a goddamn coma dream, or at least that she didn't fucking see anything,'_ he prayed.

Stan turned from his glare at Kendra's back to his humiliated prince and sighed, wordlessly hoisting him back up to quickly finish what had been started. Dark eyes flickered between the princess and his work, not trusting her to not turn around and take herself another goddamn _peek_. "There," he muttered as Kyle's pants were securely in place, looking at Kyle still staring at the floor in discomfiture. He leaned towards his ear, "Want me to get her out of here?" he whispered.

"No," Kyle finally answered, shaking his head. "I-I just want food."

Stan frowned, "Ky, I can go get you-"

"I want _out_ of this r-room, Stanley," he bit, shaking with the clash of tiring emotions piling on top of him. "Please."

"Okay, okay," he assured him, looking over at Kendra as his peripheral caught her hand waving wildly. He glanced down at Kyle who shrugged.

"You're fine," he answered her. Stan frowned, tugging pointedly on Kyle's shirt and Kyle looked at him with a wry face. "Dude, calm t-the fuck d-down," he sighed. She'd goddamn seen him without a shirt before, and she'd probably gotten more than that just seconds ago. He was too tired to care, he just wanted to go get food.

Kendra whirled around, standing and shooting Stan a cautious glance as she approached them. Kyle looked from her down to the shirt Stan had picked and sighed. "Stan? Can you get me a robe, too? I don't w-want people to… _see_ ," he frowned, glancing down at his spindly legs.

Stan nodded, patting the small of his back and guiding him to sit back onto the bed. "Yeah. Just a second." He shot Kendra a warning look before turning to head back to Kyle's wardrobe. Kyle sighed, whimpering as he fought to get his nightshirt off. Kendra hesitated before stepping forward and sitting next to him, assisting him in pulling it off over his head and tossing it behind him. Kyle barely took note of her proximity, too stuck looking with distress at his protruding ribs and collarbone.

Kendra peered at his back, the way his spine stood so starkly under his skin and she shuddered. She'd watched Gollum feed him a liquid of nutrients through her week at his side, something he could unconsciously swallow to keep him from withering into nothing. She frowned. Didn't seem to work all that well. He looked _awful_. Movement caught her attention and she looked back at him reaching to touch his face, feel his cheekbones and scrunching his eyes shut. "Not fair," he whispered to himself, bowing his head and sniffling, his other hand reaching to grab at his flat stomach. Kendra's face fell, seeing him digging his nails into the flesh.

She'd been warned about this, how he would fall into a brief period of self-loathing after awakening. It only lasted a few days more often than not, but he would have a rough time making sense of his ailments as he came back into the ever-moving world, having to readjust once more to get back into his typical steps. She bit his lip, taking the pressing hands from his skin and pulling him forward in a tight embrace. She didn't know what to do, couldn't tell him not to worry, because she had no idea what he was going through. She could only be here.

Kyle blinked, cheek pressed against Kendra's shoulder and staring at the wall, shaking a bit. He felt like he should be more embarrassed being so emotionally fragile around her, needing to be _coddled_. But she seemed to _understand_. She seemed to get that he didn't need a thousand reassurances piling on top of him as he so often got from his family and Stan, he just needed someone with him right now. He sunk into her hold, tremoring arms timidly moving to wrap back around her. She blinked in surprise, not expecting a return but welcoming it with a long, content sigh and pulling him in further. She'd been nothing short of terrified that he would suddenly take a turn for the worse, despite everyone proclaiming the contrary. Having him up again was nothing short of a miracle in her eyes, eyes that were rarely blessed with anything going in her favor. Kyle waking back up seemed to repay a lifetime of loss and then some.

Kyle's eyes slipped closed, relishing in a moment of tenderness against the cacophony of turmoil raging inside of him. Her head lightly fell atop his own, and they just let themselves breathe, let themselves lose sight of the Hell they'd been subjected to and soaking in the smell of one another.

Stan watched from the closet, fingers digging bitterly into the silk of Kyle's tawny robe before his shoulders merely slumped in defeat. This was getting ridiculous, he was getting _way_ off track with what mattered here. He wished it was himself Kyle was going to for physical comfort, no doubt, but it didn't matter. What mattered was Kyle was breathing properly, he wasn't going into an immediate breakdown as he had so many times in the past. He was just taking things one step at a time and letting himself find gratitude for being able to wake up once more. It was all that was important.

But damn if it didn't hurt.

Slowly and a little unwillingly, Kyle pulled back from Kendra's embrace, the two of them finding themselves staring at each other with comprehension for the first time in over a week. Kyle vaguely remembered being with her when it all started to fade away, saw the bags against golden skin and the bloodshot vines through her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Kendra's brow furrowed, head cocking. A silent _'What the fuck are you talking about'_ that Kyle could hear with crystal clarity.

"Just…" he sighed, gulping guiltily. "Just… everything. I'm sorry." Kendra shook her head, moving forward and giving him another quick hug, pulling back to slide a gloved hand up to cup his cheek. He stared at her like a man far too lost for one she'd thought so confident, and it broke her heart.

Stan hesitated before moving to stand beside them, clearing his throat lightly and hating the sour taste sweeping over his tongue. "She really took care of you," he forced out, Kyle tilting his head and Kendra's eyes going wide in shock. "She never left once she got up here. Wouldn't leave that chair," he jerked his head towards said furniture. Kyle needed this more than Stan needed his damn pride. Needed to know that there were more people than he knew of taking care of him, worried for him, making damn sure he would always make it to the other side.

Kyle slowly looked at Kendra's slightly blushing face and blinked, "You d-didn't have to do that," he said quietly.

She frowned, nodding curtly before softening and gesturing between Stan and him dramatically.

He smirked, "Well. He's _always_ here. E-even when I tell him t-to beat it."

"Not happening. Ever," Stan rolled his eyes with a small smile, grasping Kyle's shirt and holding it towards him. "Should probably get food in you. I'm sure your mom will order a feast."

"And then yell in p-panic when I can't eat m-more than a quarter of my plate," he shook his head, genially reaching to take the shirt and beginning to slip it on. Kendra and Stan shared a look, one of little more than exhausted understanding. Neither of them could claim to be his one and only here, neither could declare they alone had nursed him back to health with their constant vigilance. Kendra bit her lip, pausing before reaching forward and gripping Stan's hand, giving no more than a small squeeze of a momentary truce, pulling back before Kyle could see.

Stan got more than enough from that, knowing that his behavior upon her arrival wouldn't be told, that she would never divulge his humiliation of disobeying one of a higher standing. It relieved him more than he imagined it would. But, he knew he shouldn't be shocked that it did. Last thing he wanted was to upset Kyle, or to anger him for being so disrespectful to someone that he'd already been lectured on more than once.

Kyle finally pulled his baggy shirt down, satisfied enough that it hid much of what worried him. He gripped his robe, slowly sliding it over his shoulders while staring at the stairwell. "Need coffee," he mumbled, mind blurring with a malnourished body fighting to stay awake. Stan looked back at him and nodded, kneeling to help him slip on his boots.

"Are you _sure_ you don't just want me to bring you something?" he winced, taking his time to knot the right for Kyle to have the time to consider his offer.

"I-I don't wanna meld to the bed," he sighed, looking down at Kendra's hand lightly falling over his own, their fingers loosely threading along one another. He wondered if she'd held his hand nearly her entire time by his side, and he couldn't seem to place how such an occurrence felt to him. With a heavy sigh, Stan finished securing his shoes and got back to his feet, waiting for Kyle to look at him and giving him a tiny smile of encouragement. Reaching up and lightly gripping the fabric atop Stan's shoulder, Kyle hissed with the attempt to tug himself up. He winced as Kendra's arm slid around his back and helped him up onto wobbling legs, both moving to his sides to keep him steady.

"One at a time," Stan coaxed, moving him towards the impending staircase. Kyle's brow furrowed in concentration, hating how he had to _remember_ how to move his goddamn feet. Kendra kept a firm grip around his waist, watching to make sure he didn't trip over himself while Stan led the pack. Stan glanced at Kendra and twisted his lips, "Princess, I got him."

Kendra looked at him with a frown, reaching up with her free hand and flicking his nose.

"Hey!" he complained.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Will you t-two knock it _off_?" he pleaded. They could save their antics for later when he could properly play the middleman. For now, he just needed them to walk with him. They came to the stairs and his mind seemed to gain a cloud, the steps seeming to stretch endlessly towards the bottom. _'Have they always been like that?'_ he wondered, wobbling in his place.

Stan and Kendra shared a look before looking at Kyle with stern faces. "You're not using the stairs on your own, Kyle," Stan decreed. "C'mon, I'll carry you-"

"Like _hell_ ," Kyle spat, pulling back from him like a man on fire.

Kendra shook her head, holding onto Kyle's shoulder and motioning for Stan to crouch in front of him. Kyle opened his mouth for another protest in favor of his dignity before yelping at a hand gently smacking into the back of his leg and forcing him to collapse onto Stan's waiting back. He groaned, trying to wriggle away before strong arms hooked around his thighs and Stan slowly stood up, Kendra's hand keeping firm on Kyle's back to keep him situated.

"Nooo," he whined, face burning and wooziness rampaging like a hurricane.

Without another word, Stan and Kendra carefully set out down the stairs, each step taken with expert precision to keep precious cargo from slipping out of their grasp. Kyle groaned, head falling limply onto Stan's shoulder, watching the different colored magic lights as they passed. He'd made those, he tiredly recalled. One of his only forays into the world of light transmutation after stumbling across a dusted tome in his studies. His parents hadn't exactly been _pleased_ with his experiments and had hidden the book away, something even years later, he still couldn't comprehend.

Magic was one of the few things he _had_. It showed the world that he could be strong, even when trapped in such a feeble frame. He wondered if some of those ancient texts could hold some answers for his own health, something that even Gollum hadn't stumbled across in her decades of study. Maybe there was hope for him yet. Once he was king, no one would be able to take anything away from him. He would have free range to devote to finding a way to make himself healthy.

He smiled somberly. He just hoped he could make it that long.

Stan grunted, shifting Kyle on his back, heart dripping into misery at the frightening weight, or lack thereof. Kyle would have next to no appetite; his meals would be nothing but fats and proteins that slugged him down more until he had the energy to go back to a typical diet. The aftermath was nearly as hard as the sickness itself for the entire palace. _'Just a little longer. He'll be back to normal,'_ he reminded himself staunchly, stepping slightly to the side for Kendra to reach past and shove open the door.

"You all right, Kyle?" Stan asked as they stepped down at last to the corridor.

Kyle sighed through his nose, nodding. "I'm fine." Stan bent down, Kendra moving to help Kyle step tingling feet back onto the floor. Dulled green eyes flickered up and down the stretching way, barely noticing as his companions helped secure his grip around their shoulders. He glanced between their hesitant expressions before gritting his teeth. With a furrowed brow, he forced his legs to move one in front of the other, tightly keeping hold on his ranger and fiancée. The three of them stayed closely aligned with one another, all exhausted but relieved, all set and ready to make their way towards their next steps.


End file.
